College Break
by Rosemonster
Summary: Emily is back in Rosewood for her dad's funeral. Before she heads back to California, she goes out for a drink with Hanna and Alison. With the tequila shots flowing, things quickly escalate and old feelings resurface! Emison.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I started this fic because it's going to literally kill me to wait until April for 7B. Let me know what you think!

I was finally at home, laying face down on my childhood bed. My dad's funeral was over. My mom wasn't around, she was visiting friends. I couldn't blame her, she was a wreck. I wanted her to find any peace she could. But I didn't want to join her. I had nothing to do and hated the thought of being alone, but being with my mom and her friends just didn't seem appealing. Too many "let me know what I can dos" and "how are you holding ups." It was unbearable.

I thought about texting Alison, she was the only one I knew who was still in Rosewood. But honestly I didn't know if I could keep it together in front of her. It had been awhile since we'd even spoken. Alison was always a little distant when I talked about California or my life with Paige. Not uninterested necessarily, just not engaged. I also didn't want to think about the face Alison would make when I told her about my dad. I hated telling anyone, honestly, what had happened.

I ultimately decided against it and resigned myself to a night of binge watching meaningless videos in my dark, quiet house.

Just as I was about to change for the night, I heard a buzz on my bed side table.

 **Hanna TO Emily, Alison:** HEY! I heard you were in town, Em! Your mom told my mom. When are you leaving? I'm in from New York and thought you and Ali may want to go out, paint the town red. It's not a school night after all :)

I read the text, it didn't seem like Hanna knew about my dad, but maybe she did. Everyone in this town knew everything. Well, at least she didn't say anything about it or mention it to Ali on the group text.

 **Emily TO Alison, Hanna:** I am in town! But I leave tomorrow, would love to see you both though.

 **Alison TO Hanna, Emily:** This beats Netflix and a bottle of wine, I'm in.

 **Hanna TO Alison, Emily:** I've heard teachers are wild partiers. Is that true, Ali?  
 **Alison TO Hanna, Emily:** Like you wouldn't believe.  
 **Hanna TO Emily, Alison:** I'll have to see it in person! We can stay at my house. Meet over here at 9, and we'll head out.

 **Hanna TO Emily, Alison** : Also, we're going to a cowboy place. So dress appropriately.

Great. That meant I had several hours to waste trying to decide what to wear. I didn't bring much, I'd packed in less than 5 minutes, but I eventually settled on some skinny jeans, a pair of boots with higher heels, and one of my favorite flannel shirts. I rolled the sleeves up. That would have to be cowboy enough. After padding my stomach with some food to fight the eventual flood of alcohol, I decided to walk and headed over to Hanna's.

Alison pulled up at the same time. As she got out of her car, I saw she was wearing a pink halter, an acid washed light blue jean skirt with frayed edges, and short, cute cowboy boots. Her hair was down in its usual blonde curls, her lips touched with pink gloss. She looked beautiful as ever.

She hadn't seen me coming down the side walk yet, so I called out, "Ms. DiLaurentis, I have a question about my homework."

Her head jerked over to me, and it made me laugh that she'd actually thought I might be a student for a moment.

"Emily," she said excited. She quickly closed the distance between us, the clop clop of her boots ringing out on the concrete, and drew me into a hug. It was a long one. And even when I finally pulled back, but she kept hold of my elbows. "I'm so happy you're here." She moved her hands up, cupping my face in her hands.

"Me too," I said, but a little less enthusiastically. I wondered if she was going to ask me why I didn't call her.

"It's been so long since I've seen you." She said, linking her arm with mine, walking me up to Hanna's house. "You look great," she added, eyeing my outfit.

Sometimes I was envious at how easy it seemed for her to give compliments.

"You do too. Very California."

"You think?" she said smiling, making me wonder if it hadn't been a bit intentional.

"Are you ready for tonight?" I asked, wanting to shift the conversation.

"I don't think my liver is," she sighed.

"Yeah, Hanna seems ready to tear it up."

"She's a New Yorker now, every day is probably a party. Though, what am I saying, California must be like that too," she said leaning into me.

"More of a smoke a joint on the beach kind of party every day. Not my thing."

She smiled, and I stared into her blue eyes.

As we walked up the steps, I moved to knock on the door.

"Hey," Ali said, grabbing my arm to hold me back. "Before we go in, I wanted to say..."

I instantly recognized that face and looked away. I didn't want to hear it. It was a feeling I'd felt a lot lately; like I wanted to exist somewhere outside of my body. That some other version of Emily Fields could go on living, dealing with conversations like these, while I could just get away from everything, fade into the sunset.

"I'm sorry for what happened," she said. "With your dad."

"You knew?" I asked, a little accusatorily. For a moment, I felt a flash of anger. Why didn't Alison reach out to me if she knew?

She nodded. Of course she knew, she was Alison DiLaurentis.

"I called you. I looked for you at the funeral," she said simply.

I suddenly did remember getting a call from her, but it was during the stress of the day's events, during what felt like hundreds of strangers giving their consolation, shaking my hand, watching my every reaction. I could've been expelled from school that day, and I wouldn't have noticed.

"I'm sorry. I..." But I trailed off. I didn't want to tell her I'd flown in as late as possible, left as early as possible. And the way I'd been self-sabotaging lately, I'd probably even avoided her call on purpose. Dad's death had been the source of my latest relationship ending argument with Paige. Things were "off", maybe forever. And I didn't want to have a fight about it with Alison, too. I sighed deeply.

"Look, you don't have to say anything. I know what it's like to lose a parent," she said taking my hand.

I glanced back up at her. Alison moved forward, wrapping her arms around my waist and back, hugging me close. I felt her fingers dig in through the fabric of my shirt. I felt Alison's cheek, warm against mine.

"I just wanted to tell you, I'm here," she said, moving her face into my neck. This had always been her spot, the place she nestled into when she hugged me. I was comforted that Ali was there again, always there.

"Thanks, Ali," I said, feeling the tears forming. No. Not right now.

I pulled away hastily, shielding my face.

"Can we just get drunk already?" I said with a laugh, wiping my nose.

Ali smiled. "Absolutely."

She turned and knocked. I heard quick foot steps and the door flew open, Hanna screaming.

"Emily!"

She said as she jumped on me, crushing me in a hug. She grabbed my cheeks. "God, you only get more beautiful, it's not fair."

"That hurts, Han."

Hanna let me go and moved to Alison.

"Ali!"

They hugged, and I watched Ali smile over Hanna's shoulder, closing her eyes.

"My girls!" she yelled again, pulling us both into a three way hug.

"Have you already been drinking?" I asked, laughing.

"Just one or two," Hanna said, shaking her hand.

"Or three," her mom said behind her.

"Ms. Marin, it's so good to see you!" and another round of hugs. Ashley gripped my upper arm a little harder than I expected. She knew. She smiled at me sadly, but she turned to the group.

"I called you girls a cab," as she said it, a car horn blew outside. "Don't let Hanna get into too much trouble, Emily. You're the responsible one."

"I won't, I'll see you later!"

"Let's go!" Hanna begged, grabbing both Ali and my arm and pulling us outside.

The bar was just outside of town, and it must've been a new place because I'd never heard of it. It was weird how so many things I'd grown up with changed so quickly over just a few years. It made me kind of angry, but also glad Rosewood wasn't just a one bar town any more. I hadn't been to The Radley yet, and I wasn't eager to try it out tonight.

We walked in. It was VERY western. People were line dancing and dancing normally, but there were lots of cowboy hats and boots. At least it seemed busy. It might've been depressing if it was empty.

We got a pitcher of beer, Alison a tall vodka and cranberry, and we pushed through the crowd. We found a small round table in front of a booth. Hanna and I slid into the booth and Ali sat across from me in one of the chairs. Her legs were touching mine, my left leg between her two knees, her skin flush against my jeans. It felt natural yet unnatural at the same time. Ali's touch, no matter how old we were, seemed to always have that effect on me.

Hanna had somehow already finished her beer and leaned in, her elbows propped on the table, to pour herself another one. I think I'd only taken three sips of mine. Wine was more my style these days, but beer felt appropriate for this venue. Ali took a sip of her drink, glancing up at me.

"What have you been up to, Em?"

It felt open ended, I wasn't really sure how to answer.

"Bartending lately."

"Barista to bartender. Makes sense," she said, still watching me.

"How's fashion school, Hanna?" I said, wanting to shift the conversation away from my life.

"To be honest, kind of a lot of bitches. Sometimes I feel like I don't even belong there."

"Of course you do," Alison said. "I've seen your stuff, it's really cute."

"Some of these girls have just been sowing and making their own clothes since they could walk."

"I don't even know why you need school," Ali continued.

"Ironic coming from a teacher," I said.

She made a face and ignored me.

"If you opened your own shop today, I'd buy everything you had."

"You want to back me?"

"I would back you, Hanna. Just tell me when." Ali lifted her glass to toast with her and then with me.

"To Hanna's future boutique," Ali said.

"To telling your merchandising professor to go fuck herself," Hanna added.

They both looked at me. But I couldn't think of anything worth cheering about.

"Wait, I've got an idea." Hanna sprung up from the table, vanishing into the crowd.

"What is she doing now?" I pleaded to Alison, who had turned in her seat, eyes scanning over the crowd. I wondered if she really did drink a lot, like Hanna suggested teachers did.

"Have you been here before?"

Alison turned back and looked at me.

"I've heard of it, but I honestly don't go out much. I'm more of a house party girl."

"Look at you, Alison. So tame now."

She smiled, recognizing my tease. I felt her knees press against mine under the table for a moment. Then she shrugged.

"These kinds of places are just so loud, the men so drunk, it's hard to actually have a real conversation."

"I don't know," I said back, looking down into my beer. "Sometimes it's nice not to have to talk."

Alison regarded me with an uncertain expression, like she was trying to figure out what I needed and how to give it to me. It was odd. I felt like I had always been that person in our friendship.

"Look what I've got," Hanna shouted towards their table, dancing up to them with three double shots of tequila, limes, and salt.

"Hanna!" I pleaded.

Hanna ignored me completely, setting up the shots on the table.

"Ladies," she said lifting her tequila shot. I reluctantly raised mine, gazing at the clear gold liquid. Tequila always had a potent effect on me, and I was afraid where the night would take me after.

Ali clinked hers in the middle, smiling and shaking her head with mock disapproval at Hanna. Her dimples were showing.

"This is for Wayne Fields. Without him, we wouldn't have the wonderful best friend we have here with us today."

I was surprised, but it felt appropriate, so I threw my shot back with the two of them. Hanna shifted back into the booth and put her arm around me, squeezing my shoulder.

It was nice that that was all we needed to say. Paige had been relentless with questions, constantly goading me to talk about it. It was so nice to have friends who just let me be and supported me and when I did come to them.

"You realize you have to finish that right," Ali said to me, gesturing towards my glass.

I looked down, noticing it was still almost half way full.

"It's a double," I protested.

"That's the point!" Hanna said, moving the glass towards me again.

I sighed and took the rest, without a lime.

"Oh my God, it burns."

"Are you a light weight, Em?" Ali teased.

I nodded. "Definitely."

"These are a lot better with a pineapple back," she suggested, making me wonder the depth of her expertise surrounding tequila shot taking. Hanna looked at her too.

"I teach high schoolers, guys, I know what I'm doing around a bottle of tequila."

"Those must be some house parties," I said, taking one of the limes and biting into it, anything to get that taste out of my mouth.

"Fair enough," Hanna said.

"It's actually been awhile since I've gone out," I found myself saying, discarding the lime on the table. I felt looser with the liquor coursing through me. "Paige isn't much of a drinker."

"Why not?" Hanna asked. "I thought that's what college was for."

"She's trying to get into the Olympic trials."

It must've been the way I said it, or the way I looked down and away, kicking some trash across the floor, but Hanna watched me closely.

"How _are_ things with Paige?" Hanna asked.

"Not so good right now." I responded after a pause, pushing my finger around the edge of my pint glass. "We broke up. I think I'm pretty much homeless when I get back."

Ali made a face, "Unbelievable. I mean, your dad."

"Yeah, I know. To be fair, I haven't been great about it."

Ali continued to look offended, but it was true. I'd been an absolute head case since my dad died. But I'd felt strangely not guilty about it. Like I owed her nothing. There were other contributing factors, of course, but something was just broken about our relationship.

"That sucks," Hanna said glumly, averting her eyes to the floor. "Caleb and I did, too. Not that long ago."

"I didn't know," I said, glad to have something else to talk about. I took her hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry."

Hanna squeezed it back for a moment, before pulling it away.

"Yeah, he moved out. It's whatever," she said waving her hand. "He's in Europe right now, probably checking out Italian women in leather skirts." She looked miserable.

"No way, Hanna," Alison said encouragingly. "Nobody likes Italians."

Hanna laughed at that.

"Everyone likes Italians," she argued.

"I'm not against them," Emily added, trying to lighten the mood. Hanna slapped her in the shoulder.

"But you'd like to be," Ali said back. She lifted an eye brow, a smirk playing across her lips.

"I mean, I could go and save him from them if you'd like, Hanna. I'm willing to do that for you," I said, ignoring Ali's suggestive comment.

"Real sweet, Em." Hanna said, rolling her eyes. She turned to Alison.

"What about you, Ali? Any lucky guy in your life? Any sad break ups you can one up us with here?"

She just shook her head no, as ever the mysterious answer, and finished her drink.

"Well, we're all young, single," Hanna said, suddenly slapping the table. "And it sounds like all our love lives are absolute shit," she continued, jumping up. "And there's only one cure for that: another round of shots!"

As Hanna moved out of the booth, I noticed Ali's eyes flicker behind her. I followed her gaze to a guy approaching our table, having come from a group close by.

"I'll buy the next round," he said to Hanna. "If you agree to dance with me."

The guy was cute, tall, well dressed. Hanna looked at us, lifting her eyebrows, and then said, "I'm not a great line dancer, so that sounds like a deal to me!"

"And a vodka cranberry too," Ali yelled after them.

They headed to the bar, where I watched them take their shots. Bringing ours back, Hanna pushed the shots and Ali's drink towards us.

"You ready?" he said to Hanna, extending his hand and motioning towards the dance floor. She grabbed it.

"Hell yes."

He led her away from the table, and I finished my beer. Probably best not to mix at this point.

"All that guy's friends are watching you," Alison said over the top of her glass, taking a drink as she glanced over at them.

"No, they aren't," I said. "They're probably looking at you." I felt her knees move again. "Do you want to talk to them?"

Alison's expression was of purest disgust. "Absolutely not. And, of course they're looking at _you_ , you're the prettiest girl in this place," she added with a twinkle.

I felt a bit awkward. I'd forgotten what it was like to get this kind of attention from Alison. It had been a long time since she'd done it, maybe even since before she'd gone missing. Back then, it had always seemed like a joke, like teasing. Nothing more. Maybe Ali was just feeling the alcohol and old habits were resurfacing.

"Do guys still hit on you a lot?" she asked casually.

I rolled my eyes.

"Non stop. Sometimes I think about wearing a ring, just so I don't have to deal with it."

"Well, how about for tonight, I can be your girlfriend," she said, moving her hand, touching my fingers lightly, just grazing the tips with hers.

My tongue felt dry, my throat constricted. I glanced at her empty cocktail glass and the new, full one.

"How many of those have you had, Ali?"

"Give me your hand," she said, ignoring me. "These shots are going to get hot."

I paused reluctantly. She grabbed my hand anyway, taking the salt shaker in the other. Not taking her eyes from mine, she licked the curve of my palm between my thumb and index finger and shook the salt over it. So, that's what kind of night it was going to be.

I glanced back at the table of guys.

"Well, thanks, Ali, they're definitely watching now."

"I'm not sorry," she said, as she pulled my hand up to her mouth. I felt her tongue again, velvety and wet, slide over my skin. She looked at me the entire time she did it, an unspoken dare to make her stop. It was hot.

She then grabbed the shot, threw it back, and quickly sucked on the lime, her face contorting.

"Oh my God," she shouted. "Delicious. That's exactly what I needed."

I laughed at her. "That is NOT what your face said."

"You're right, I think I took it wrong."

"I thought you were an expert!"

"Your turn," she said expectantly.

Back in high school, I might've said no. I might've avoided her implications, her flirting. But now that I was older, I didn't feel as intimidated. This was not my first rodeo. I worked at a bar, for Christ's sake. Male, female, everyone hits on you for a free drink. But this was still Alison, and my heartbeat was still rising.

"Okay, Alison," I said, lifting up her wrist, splaying out her fingers, desperately trying to play it cool. "You're my girlfriend for the night." I licked her hand, and I felt her heel push into my calf below the table, her knees push toward mine.

"And as my girlfriend," I said as I shook the salt over her palm, "I fully expect you to keep me safe from guys. And maybe if I'm lucky..." I said suggestively, dropping my eyes to her lips, my tongue pressing against her hand.

Ali looked both surprised and a little flustered. I felt satisfied. I sucked the salt off of her hand, hard, and then took the shot.

The rest of the guys were at our table before I even had time to the glass down.

"What is happening here," one of them said. "And how can we help?"

"Well, you can take us to dance, for one," I said, taking one of the guys hands, letting him pull me out of the booth.

We moved to the line dance floor. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, but it was still fun. As we finished, the guy who had pulled me out of the booth, started to dance with me. He actually wasn't bad. However, before he could accomplish much, I saw two fingers tap his shoulder.

"Hey, hands off cowboy," Ali said, cutting in on the guy. "She's mine for the night."

He looked confused, but stood back. Ali took my hand, and I pulled her in close, our shoulder touching, before sending her immediately into a twirl.

"Wow, you're so butch, Ali," I said as she came back towards me.

"I am not," she balked. "I just know what I want," and there it was again, that smirk. Those eyes.

I pushed her back and brought her close again, it was hard not to laugh. It was fun.

"We never really got a chance to do this, did we?"

I'm confused for a moment. Dance together? Be together?

"What do you mean?" I say, pushing her into another quick twirl.

"Go to a dance?" she says back. "I think I only went to one in high school before..." she trailed off.

"Yeah," I said, dismally. "They banned us from prom. We did have that Christmas ball you threw."

Ali smiled, looking embarrassed. "Right," she said. "What a mess. But that dress you wore, the white one."

I laughed.

"It was stunning," she continued. "I wish I could've told you at the time."

"I can't believe you remember that."

"I remember everything, sweet Emily," she said back. I could feel the color rise in my cheeks as she looked at me.

"We actually had another one," I added. "Kind of like this. It was a hoedown."

"Oh my God, a hoedown? Who did you go with?" she said, a flicker of something I didn't recognize crossing her face. Jealousy?

"Paige," I said flatly.

She carefully controlled her expression, like usual.

"What did you wear?" she said more evocatively, raking her eyes over my current outfit.

"A bandana, blue boots, short shorts."

"My god, I missed everything good," she said with a whimsical sigh. "Not these boots, right? Those heels are so high, Em, they make me feel like an elf. You're already 7 feet tall."

"Ha, they're totally fine. They're all the rage in California. Plus, I like being able to lord over all of you."

"I bet you would fall right down if I jumped on you."

"I'm pretty athletic," I sparred back.

"So, you think you could catch me?"

"Absolutely."

"Want to bet?"

"Yes. But why?"

She shrugged. "It's a dance move."

"No, it-"

But without much warning, I felt her hands press hard down on my shoulders, and she jumped up, all of her momentum moving forward and onto me. Instinctually, I wrapped my hands under her legs, taking several steps backwards to catch my balance. But I had her, like I knew I would.

Her hair fell in a curtain around her face, I could smell her shampoo, I could feel the curls on my neck. Her arms hung comfortably around my neck.

"I told you," I said, a little breathlessly.

"I guess I owe you," she said back, shifting, my hands moving to accomodate, gripping her backside.

There's a moment where I think she's going to kiss me, right here, in the middle of this cowboy bar, as her eyes dart to my lips.

"What are you guys doing?" Hanna shouted out. "Come over here! It's shot time!"

Ali uncurls her legs from around my waist and slides down the front of my body. She adjusts her skirt, still looking at me.

"Shot time!" Hanna says again more insistently.

She sighed, walking towards Hanna, but looked back at me and winked.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews and follows! Glad you are enjoying! Am thinking I will also add a chapter from Ali's POV. Should be fun.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. It became hazy. Loud. Sweaty. Thankfully, it was cool by the time the lights flashed and we moved outside to get a cab. But it was crowded and it seemed like it was going to take forever. Ali leaned against me while we waited, crossing her arms.

"Hey, we can take you home if you want. You girls are from Rosewood?"

It was the guys from earlier. We'd spent a most of the night talking and laughing with them, Ali always lingering close to me, linking her arm with mine, touching my elbow. It didn't seem like a bad idea, but it was hard to really trust anyone, even years after "A."

"Are you from Rosewood?" Hanna asked loudly, swaying a bit.

"We're staying at the Radley. This here is Chris, and he's my DD," the first guy said, slapping the back of a friend next to him. The friend waved awkwardly.

"Perfect, let's go," Hanna said circling her fingers.

I was a little uncomfortable, but it did seem like the best option. Ali looked at me, rolling her eyes, but followed Hanna. The two guys waved goodbye to the rest of their friends and motioned us towards a large truck.

Ali took my hand and pulled me into the back as Hanna climbed into the front, sitting in the middle. She immediately took over the music began screaming unintelligible lyrics to some rock song.

Ali held my hand in her lap, and I intertwined our fingers. I looked at her face. She was staring forwards, those icy blue eyes looking at god knows what. She almost seemed distracted. I had no idea what she was thinking.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the proximity of being shoved into the cab, our legs pressed together, my left ankle under hers. Maybe it was the relative privacy, the total obliviousness of the other passengers. Maybe it was her wink from earlier. But suddenly I became aware of how warm and close she was beside me. I dropped her hand, lifting my elbow up, letting it rest on the back of the seat behind her head. With my shoulder out of the way, she had room to move away, but she moved in closer, almost imperceptibly, without looking at me.

I took her hand again with my free one and, rather than just holding it, I started to massage her palm with my fingers. I pushed them through hers and back again, pressing my forefinger into the soft flesh of her thumb, moving circles around her knuckles. Her hands were smaller than mine, my fingers were long, exploring. She looked down, watching my fingers trace hers, I thought I saw her mouth fall open slightly. But she said nothing, almost ignoring it. She didn't stop me, but she didn't move at all in response.

I glanced forward. Hanna and the boys were talking in between tracks.

"Oh my God, yes! That's exactly what I thought when I first heard this one!"

She was having the time of her life.

Looking back at Ali, a loose blond curl had come free and I moved it back behind her ear with the hand I had propped behind her head. She registered my touch by looking up from our hands, closing her eyes for a moment, and taking a breath. I moved my fingers away from her palm, up her arm, continuing to massage the muscles in her forearm. I moved my head in, my nose grazing her cheek, my lips close to her ear. Her scent was even stronger here, part of it artificial, her expensive perfume, but the other part her actual smell. Sometimes, I think, I would recognize that smell anywhere, a crowded party, a super market, a train station, anywhere. I let my eyes flutter closed as I brushed my lips across her neck.

She moved at that, gripping my hand suddenly, shifting in her seat. I looked down and I could see the goose bumps on her arm. I felt brave, confident, proud that I could elicit any response from her. She finally turned to look at me, our faces close, her head leaning back against my elbow. She held a strange expression, relatively empty, like she was trying to decide between two mundane choices. Celery or cucumbers? But she was almost more beautiful like that. Like a photo still. But then the photo moved. She glanced down at my lips, and I realized she was trying, as ever, to mask her thoughts and feelings. But her eyes were betraying her. And so were her hands, which were pushing back into mine with a certain degree of need.

I stared back, looking at the flecks of yellow in those blue eyes, watching at how the passing streetlights illuminated them every few seconds, unconsciously moving my hand into her hair where it met with her temple, my nails light against her scalp.

I dipped my head forward. Her lips parted, her eyes closing.

"Emily," she said, her breath warm against my lips, my lips so close to hers, I swear I could feel her mouth my name. She glanced at the others in the car, pulling her face away. She did not want to be caught.

I pushed away her long, full, beautiful hair, and kissed her just below the ear on her neck. She moved into me, her hand slipping across mine onto my thigh. She dug her nails into my jeans. To be honest, I wasn't really sure what I was doing, I just wanted more. I wanted, in an odd way, to torture her the way she'd tortured me for years. Let her try to resist this.

I became more aggressive. I continued to kiss her neck, but harder, more insistent. I pushed my tongue against her skin before nipping her ear lobe. My hand moved to her knee, danced at the hem line of her skirt. I pressed up her inner thigh, under the fabric, moving her legs slightly open. She didn't resist, but continued to stare forward, not meeting eyes or my lips, but moving slightly into the rhythm of my kisses. I loved the way she felt under my hands, pliable and warm.

I remembered back to the last time I had had this type of access to her, our hands exploring each other under her sheets. But this time was different. There wasn't the shadow of A hanging over us. There wasn't the cloud of mistrust, the pain of losing my best friend and then regaining her back only to suspect she might've been my tormenter all long.

No, now it had been years of brief, intermittent contact. But, even still, I was often painfully aware of the deep connection we shared, an easiness to our friendship that I hadn't found with anyone else. And, on top of that, the powerful attraction I had for her, no matter how much time had passed or how many miles between us. It was something I kept hoping would go away, but it was always there, buried deep beneath the surface. It almost felt like a part of who I was sometimes, something I couldn't remove or dampen. And, without the alcohol, it slumbered. But with the alcohol…

"Kiss me," I said, breathy into her ear.

"No," she said back, but her breathing was coming short, her eyes closing as I felt her for center, traced a nail around the outside of her underwear. She bit her lip, suppressing some sort of noise.

"...you know, Ali?"

I had less than a second to remove my hand, Ali to move her legs closed, before Hanna was turned around looking at us, smiling. Alison's eyes fluttered open, her pupils giant, her eyes almost black. She subtly moved her hand off my leg while we sat there, looking innocent. Nothing to see here.

"Wasn't this band great in concert?"

"Oh, uh huh," she said.

"Oh my God, were you sleeping? You two are so lame."

Hanna turned back around and kept yelling the music lyrics. The guys joined in.

Ali looked at me like I was in trouble. I smiled slightly at her, mischievously, which caused her frown to perk up into a smirk. I used the moment to sucker punch kiss her, she was so close after all.

My lips pressed against hers, I could taste her lip gloss for a shining moment before she pulled away angry, quickly checking the others, her eyes darting up to the rear view mirror. Of course no one saw.

She leaned back in, eyes still forward, whispering into my ear. "I am going to kill you later," she said grabbing me, her fingers pushing into the muscle just above my knee. It tickled, I jerked my knee up involuntarily.

She used my movement to curl heel around ankle, moving my legs apart. Then, I felt her tongue drag up the side of my neck. Oh my God.

"Ali," I breathed.

"Two can play this game, huh?" she said, toying with the wasteband of my jeans, nuzzling my neck with her nose before sucking hard behind my ear, definitely leaving a mark. I cried out, partially through pain, partially because it was so hot, but I kept my mouth shut, trapping the noise. I knew she felt the it vibrate through my neck.

I turned to kiss her again, but she pulled back with a sideways smile. Our eyes locked. I thought about pushing her backwards onto the cab's bench seat, pinning her, so that she couldn't avoid me. I'm convinced she saw this thought cross my mind as she bit her lip again.

"Drop us off at the end of this block," Hanna's voice carried over the music.

Alison ignored this. She popped the top button of my jeans, lifting an eye brow slightly, her mouth open, and I could see her tongue pressed against her teeth.

She turned suddenly and said, "Drop us off here, my house is right there."

"But Ali, we're staying at m-" Hanna started as the truck came to a stop. But Ali had my hand forcefully in her grip and was dragging me out of the truck as she opened the door to jump out.

"Emily's coming with me," she said, matter-of-factly, glancing back at me with a fierce look, as if daring me to say no.

"Uh, see you tomorrow I guess?" Hanna yelled after us.

Ali didn't bother with a good-bye as she towed us across her yard. It was dark, black shadows cast long and sinewy across the grass. She fumbled with the keys to the lock before tugging me, hard, inside. As I almost fell over the threshold, she turned, trapping me against the closing door. Her hands were on both sides of my head. It was suddenly quiet inside the house, the air thick.

"Well?" she said.

I moved in to kiss her again. She pulled back. I grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her forward, finally capturing and tasting her lips, her mouth. She tasted like I remembered. Her tongue slid across mine, defiant yet soft and warm, as her hips pressed eagerly against me. It was like kissing something that was deftly trying to break free from you while also tethered and bound tightly. Kind of like how our relationship had always been. It had been so long.

As the kiss continued to deepen, I felt Ali really start to reveal how much she wanted this, wanted me. Our kiss was desperate, hungry, filled with years of repressed tension, barely controlled attraction. But something had snapped and neither of us could take it any more. One of my hands moved backward, under her skirt, taking hold of her ass. My other hand moved under her shirt, dragging my nails up her back. At this she tore away, pulling me upstairs. I kicked my shoes off as we charged into her bedroom. I followed, pushing her shirt up as she shut the door from under my arms. Her bra came off easily thanks to my now practiced hands. I was grateful, worried that any hiccup would cause her to stop. I continued to kiss her, unwilling to break contact for a single moment. I pushed her backward, pushing her skirt down as we made our way towards her bed.

Ali spun us around, seating me on the edge. She slowly took her heels off as I admired her in only her underwear. She climbed on top of my lap, wrapping her legs around my waist. Her thumb pressed across my lips as she pushed another hand through my black hair, her eyes looking more royal blue in the dark light. She kissed me again. Slowly. Languidly. As if, now that we were safe in her room, she could take her time. I'm reminded of how addictive kissing her was. She tastes sweet, dark, full, _her_.

Maybe this was why she wouldn't kiss me in the car. She knew I couldn't stop. She pulled my shirt up and off.

She pushed my back against the bed, and sat straddling me, looking down, a wave of blonde hair partially obscuring her face, my hands resting on her thighs. She walked her finger across the bare skin of my stomach, it tickled.

"You were really turning me on in the truck," she said. She made a faux thoughtful face. "Now how to punish you?"

She ground her hips into mine, slowly, like a pulse, causing me to involuntarily grab her waist, her ass. She took me quickly by the wrists and pinned them beside my head. She was directly over me, her lips inches from mine, her breasts slightly grazing my chest. It made my breath catch in the back of my throat.

"No touching. No kissing. And if you can't behave, I'm going to have to tie you up," she said with a lilt to her voice.

Jesus Christ, is this what we had missed out on? Was she joking? Did it matter?

I left my arms where they were, and she pulled my jeans off, taking everything with them. I realized there I was, again, naked in Ali's bed.

"Now don't move," she said, dipping downward. She moved her hands up both sides of my inner thigh, pushing, pulling, kneading. "Or I'll stop."

It was an effort not to move. She watched my struggle with the hint of a wicked smile.

Then I felt her tongue, trailing up, closer and closer to where both legs met.

"Ali," I said, moving my hips towards her.

"Don't move," she said sharply back.

I stopped, taking a deep breath. Her fingers began to toy with my clit, maddeningly with no rhythm, I knew she was teasing me. I balled my fists. But then I felt her fingers begin to move in circles, in tempo.

"Fuck," I breathed.

Then she pressed her tongue against me, into me, with a type of dexterity that an unbridled, animalistic moan escaped me. In a thousand lifetimes, I wouldn't have been able to control it. I gripped the bedspread as if holding on for dear life, and she continued, unperturbed. I stopped thinking straight, I felt everything.

My muscles ached, my legs were shaking, my body literally felt like it was on fire. I had the thought, _Alison DiLaurentis is fucking me_ , and I was so overwhelmed by it, I wanted her body flush against me, I wanted her mouth on mine. I grabbed her head pulling her up to me. I pushed my tongue into her mouth, as she lifted my leg up, hooking one hand under my knee. She flattened me against the bed, her hips astride mine, pressing into my center. She placed her hand between us, her fingers slipping into me again, and began to grind against me, undulating in the rhythm of her hand movements.

Oh God, I thought. I was going to climax.

I broke away from her mouth.

"Alison," I said, practically yelling, drawing out her name, feeling like she herself had torn it from me. The orgasm rumbled through my body and as I spasmed, I felt her teeth on my throat, not quite a bite, not a nibble. I felt like she was marking me as hers. I was hers.

When I finally registered an ability to control myself again, I opened my eyes. She was holding herself above me, staring down at me. She looked different, like a an altered form of herself, her mouth open, her lips red and full, looking everything like the sexiest person I had ever known. She began to trace her forefinger nail down my jaw. I grabbed her hand, putting her finger into my mouth.

She made a noise, like a combination between a hum and an exhale, as I swirled my tongue around her finger tip. I flipped us over.

"My turn," I said.

I was going to make her cum. And I was going to bite her back.


	3. Chapter 3

I wake suddenly, maybe I'd been having a nightmare. I'm disoriented for a moment, not sure where I am. Something presses warm and soft in front of me. I hear rhythmic breathing, I see long blonde hair spilling over the pillow in front of my face. I'm naked.

The night comes back to me in pieces, fragments of a whole. It's almost nonsensical, especially when we got in the truck. I remember Ali jumping on me at the bar, our palms together in the back seat, her biting her lip, me kissing her throat, her smell. It's like a slide show in fast forward. I suddenly realize her taste is still in my mouth. I'm in her bed, in a cloud of her scent. I'm starting to feel a combination of mortification, arousal, and generalized nausea from the hangover.

I press my palms to my face, covering my eyes. This also works to alleviate a headache setting in, I'm sure, for the day.

She moves her backside into me, making a noise that is both adorable and sultry at the same time. I want to run my hands over her waist, over her back. I feel like I've already forgotten what it felt like. But I'm scared that she will react differently in the harsh light of day. Without the alcohol, touching her at all feels nerve-wracking or wrong, even. What was I thinking?

The bed suddenly feels like a place I don't belong, and putting an arm around her, bringing her close, feels like an action that I could have never done. I don't even know where to start with what's happened. Will we have to talk to about it? We never have before. But last night was different. Last night was more. I don't know what to do.

I start to really get overwhelmed, fidgeting anxiously. How could I do this to myself? And after my dad died? Should I get up? Should I leave? But I can't do that to her. This is Alison. This is my best friend, my first.. love. I think back on the night. It had felt so good to spend time with her, to be around her again. Alison had a type of warmth, like standing in a sun beam, when she gave you her attention. I'd missed it. And her touch…

There must be something in my body movements that wake her because she stirs, turning to me, the white sheet pulling taut across her chest. Her eyes drift open, the blueness, as ever, piercing.

"Hey babe," she says, lifting a hand to my cheek.

It's so disarming, her tone and her touch make me blush. I can feel the heat rising, my heart rate jumping. Her eyes drop to my neck, where she rubs her thumb over where she'd left a mark. I know it's a mark because it stings slightly, like she's pressing a bruise. I am silently jealous, even confused, that she can act so natural about what we've done to each other.

We sit in silence for a moment as she continues to caress my face. I watch her eyes until they flicker up to me. Again, her face is blankly angelic, her feelings and thoughts hidden, shrouded.

"Are you going back today?" she asks, her voice lower, sexy, from the night's drinking.

I nod, slowly, averting my gaze.

"My flight's at 11," I say, my fingers playing absently with the sheet around her pillow. I don't even know what time it is, but I'm guessing early. Too early after getting to bed so late.

I look back at her again, bracing myself. The sun is coming through her window, a shaft slanting across her face. I think, she looks so beautiful here in these sheets. If she asked me to stay, would I?

"Maybe we could," she starts. "Maybe we could-" but she breaks off again, as if having some sort of internal struggle. I'm listening intently now.

"What? What is it?"

"Nevermind," she says after a long pause, shaking her head, pulling her hand away from my face, wiping something away mentally. She presses it to her brow, closing her eyes. "Let's not talk about it, it'll be better that way."

Of course. This is the person I know, who I was once closest to. The one who loved secrets and lies more than truth, who loved dreams over reality. But I don't know if I'm disappointed, really. What would I do here, even? Why would I stay? California was my home now. I know next to nothing about what her life has been like here. Also, and it hurts to even think, she's still straight. She never wanted this, she didn't initiate it last night. Sure, she willingly participated, but she's never wanted to really _be_ with me.

I get up. I'm glad she doesn't want to talk about it. I don't think could bear to hear the word "mistake."

"Do you want a t-shirt?" she suggests.

I look back. She has opened her bedside console and is offering me a blue Rosewood High shirt. I think about having to wear a shirt of hers, surrounded by the smell of her, in the airport for the next 8-10 hours. Having it back in California, sitting in my drawer, a constant visual and olfactory reminder of what we did. I quickly decide against that unique form of torture.

"No," I say, pulling on my clothes from last night. "I need to stop by my parents' house," this causes a sting of pain. I guess it's just my mom's house now. "And get my stuff anyway."

I hear the sheets rustle as I look for my boots. I open the door, spot them outside of it, where I'd pulled them off. But as I stand up, I notice she's crept up behind me, having put on the blue shirt. It's loose around her, overly big, just barely covering the top of her legs. I can't help but notice how it's all she's wearing. Soberer and in the light, her skin is even more tempting to touch, her body even more perfect than it had been. 3D vs 2D. I remember moaning her name, and I swear my face flushes.

She lifts her arms up over my shoulders, and I have that familiar feeling like she's reading my thoughts. Her wrists cross behind my neck, and she pushes her forehead against mine. Her expression shifts briefly, and she looks sad. It occurs to me that she's conflicted like I am, guilty even. I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse. She brings me into a tight a hug. It's difficult for me to keep my hands on the top of the fabric of her shirt, not to dip under. It's difficult for me to do anything but hug her back tightly.

"I've missed you," she says, her face in my hair. I can feel her inhale deeply.

"I've missed you," I can only say back.

She moves back, her nose nuzzling mine, her index finger under my chin, lifting it, and she stands on her toes to kiss me. Even after last night, it still takes my breath away. She still tastes sweet and warm, with the faint hint of alcohol. I want to just keep kissing her, to get back into bed, and wrap my arms around her. I want to live in the world where that is who we are together.

As I break the kiss and pull away from her, she grabs my wrist, her mouth open, drawing in a breath. But she doesn't speak. I can almost see what she wants to say. It's "love you" but she can't bring herself to do it. Not in this context. And I can't do it either. So as I move out through the door way, I keep hold of her hand, squeezing it until I'm too far away, and her fingers slip from mine.

"Bye," is all I manage to say.

She just waves, half-heartedly, before clutching her open door, watching me go down the stairs.

I slip out the back door and, in the early morning light, realize how walk of shame I look right now. I decide to take the alleys to get to my house. My mom isn't home, so I just grab my things, throw them all, messy, into my bag, and call a cab. I can't stop thinking of her mouth on mine, of our legs, interlocked together. It's torture.

On the way to the airport, I'm composing a text to her, one I keep deleting, until I finally just lock my phone in frustration. It buzzes soon after, and I almost throw it across the seat trying to pick it up again.

 **Alison:** It was good seeing you again. I hope you come back soon.

As I'm looking at it, it vibrates again.

 **Hanna:** How are you this morning? I threw up in my mom's bushes. Do you feel like brunch?

And then another,

 **Alison:** I'm thinking of you.

I don't know who to respond to first. I start typing back to Hanna.

 **Emily:** I need an ice pack attached to my head. But can't do brunch unless you want to come to the airport. Already heading out.  
 **Emily:** Thanks so much for taking me out though! I really needed it.  
 **Hanna:** Super bummer. But I'm sure work/school will take me to CA soon. We'll see each other soon! *kissface

I look back at Alison's text. I wonder if I will see her again soon, like I'll see Hanna. I don't really know what to say. I guess I should just go with the truth.

 **Emily:** I'm thinking of you, too.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** This chapter is long. It's essentially the story, up until Chapter 3, from Alison's point of view. I'd originally written it from hers and decided to still finish it and post it. Why not? Will have another update, moving forward with the story soon!

* * *

Sometimes I think about how she betrayed me, what it was like to be left out in the cold. Not trusted, not believed. Alone.

Emily always tried to write the narrative like I used her, but I've never felt such acute exploitation as I did in her bedroom, "keeping me busy", asking me if I was A.

" _I wasn't that surprised when the others turned on me. But you were the one that I trusted."_

I told her my feelings, feelings I'd never dreamed of sharing with anyone. I didn't want anyone to know that they could hurt me, that I could be weak. That I could love. But what does Emily see and hear? That I was just lying and trying to manipulate her again.

" _Bravo."_

I remember how fast Emily reconnected with Paige, how quickly the girls accepted them. I remember watching them through the window at Christmas, laughing, together. At first, I was just angry. Maybe even in denial. But then I remember being the one who was on trial for murder, my friends, Emily, not answering my calls. Getting burned, beaten in jail. The anger had faded at that point and, instead, it just felt like someone was slowly cutting my heart out of my chest. No pain killer, watching, with a blunt object. It was enough to make me even miss my mother, who buried me alive. I would wake at night in my cell, calling out for her. But, like the others, she never answered.

It was hard not to give up on them the way they had given up on me. It was hard not to go back to being the person I had been before, the one not under control, not on a tight leash. Sometimes I missed that side of myself. I missed how her ferocity could hide my pain and disappointment.

I remember letting them out of that dollhouse, looking for Emily in the smoke. I remember having to tromp through the forest in that fucking yellow shirt, shoeless. I remember how dark and afraid I was. That's right, Alison DiLaurentis, afraid. No one ever believes that I get scared, but I thought they might be dead, and I thought I might be joining them soon. Me, walking willingly towards my death. Old Ali would've been on a bus, long gone.

I know they thought I never loved them. And, maybe they're right, maybe I don't know what love really is. But I did that. I walked through hell for them.

Then Emily was there, in my arms, alive. I've never held someone so closely. Ezra gets kisses. Toby gets kisses. Caleb gets proclamations of eternal love. Ali gets, "Who is Charles DiLaurentis?"

Like I created CeCe. Like I somehow made someone do this to me, to us. I could physically feel Emily push away from me after that, like she was pushing off the wall of a swimming pool. Sara fucking Harvey. Sometimes I couldn't even bear to think about her. The actual villain, the actual manipulator and user, getting to share Emily's time and attention and love like that. It made my blood boil.

But eventually, so many years pass, that something sharp and stinging becomes something numb and aching. And then with enough time, it doesn't feel like anything at all. Something horrible that happened doesn't define you now. New people come into your life. You bury yourself in your work, teaching and helping Charlotte get better. You don't even notice people hurrying past you on the street. Or maybe less of them are doing it. You become someone else or, at least, a different version of you. You're at that place people always talk about, that you never believe existed. You've "moved on." Isn't that what they always say? You need to move on. Give it time, you'll move on.

And I thought I had. I thought I'd buried my anger, resentment six feet under. I thought I'd forgotten that Ali. But I felt it stirring, trying to crawl out of the grave, when I saw Emily at her dad's funeral. The old anger blazed, like a sunspot, the intensity making my hands shake, my nostrils flare.

I'd _called_ her. More than once. Texted. Called her mom. No reply. And there she was, standing in the front pew, her face hidden in a dark, black avalanche of hair, looking slim and tall, shaking hands with some random.

I had been her best friend, everything to her. I'd saved her _life_. And her dad dies, and she doesn't even think to talk to me? Was I nothing to her now? Just a bad memory, a foul taste you're trying to get out of your mouth? I tore at my hand bag with my fingernails, feeling the rage rising.

I knew if anyone could hear my thoughts, what they'd say, what they always said about me. Alison, always thinking of herself, making it all about her. Alison's not happy if she's not the center of everything. But I'd come here, alone, to pay my respects, and I felt like I'd been betrayed all over again. Cast aside.

I felt tears rise hotly in my eyes. Jesus, Alison. Honestly? After all this time? I hastily walked to the bathroom to collect myself. I threw my things on the counter, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I don't know what I expected. A warm reunion? A long fireside chat? No, just a response. Just a text back.

Sure, things weren't like they used to be. We talked less and less. She was two thousand miles away after all. We had totally separate lives. She had Paige.

I ground my teeth, grabbing a Kleenex.

An older woman walked in and saw me. I tried not to make eye contact, dabbing my eyes. As she passed by, she put a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her and smiled weakly. She didn't say anything, just a moment of comfort, before she went into a stall.

I needed to keep it together. This wasn't about me. People here had lost a loved one, and I knew what that felt like. In more ways than one.

I sat through the service, staying at the back, trying to go unnoticed. I recognized Emily's different family members, but I noticed the rest of the girls were missing. Did they know? Did she not tell them? I saw Hanna's mom.

After it concluded, I moved out of the church, onto the concrete pathway. I checked my phone to look busy, to stay out of the way. I saw Emily come out. This was the first good look I'd gotten of her face, and I'd seen that expression before. Like several weeks after the dollhouse. Haunted. Avoidant. One hundred miles away. It softened my heart. I wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, but I knew she wouldn't let me. Just like back then.

I saw her say something to her mom, who was stepping into the first family car, en route to the cemetery. I couldn't hear her, but I saw all the same signs; Emily was lying. It gave me a secret thrill that I could still read her so well. Not that I had much difficulty reading anyone, but with her, it was always magnified. Like I was inside her mind. A next level connection. She motioned her hand towards the church, and it seemed like she might've begun arguing with Pam. She stepped away from the car and went back inside.

Weird. Something was up. I had an odd feeling. I moved around the hedge I had been standing by, to get a glimpse of the side of the church. Sure enough, there she was, exiting the back door. That would've been old Ali's move, I knew what it was like to run away.

After that, I went home. I felt like I understood what was happening, and it was best to just let it play out. You couldn't force someone to deal with something, cornering her would just make everything worse. She'd come to me if she wanted to. Meanwhile, back to life, back to new people, back to "moved on."

I graded papers. I poured a glass of wine. I settled into my couch, putting on an old movie.

I heard the buzz on the table.

 **Hanna TO Emily, Alison:** HEY! I heard you were in town, Em! Your mom told my mom. When are you leaving? I'm in from New York and thought you and Ali may want to go out, paint the town red. It's not a school night after all :)

I stared down at my phone for a moment. Hanna hadn't been at the funeral, did she know? Did she fly in today? Smart of her not to bring up Emily's dad if she did know. Maybe New York had finally taught her something about subtlety and tact.

I put my phone back down, face down. A part of me didn't want to hope that Emily would respond, didn't want to get excited to see her. Well, not just see her, talk to her.

Buzz. I snatched it back up.

 **Emily TO Alison, Hanna:** I am in town! But I leave tomorrow, would love to see you both though.

I stared at her name on the blue screen. It felt like I'd been trying to will it into existence for the past few days, it surprised me that there it was, finally just sitting there. I didn't know if I was angry that she answered Hanna when she didn't answer me, or just relieved that she answered at all.

Shit, I needed to get dressed. I practically threw my papers off of my lap after typing out my response. Some cowboy place? Good god.

As I got up, my footing came a little uneasy. I glanced at the bottle of wine, which was half empty. So, I was going to have a head start on everyone. Might as well back it a big one. I took the bottle with me to my bedroom.

I took a shower. Did my hair. Makeup. I chose my clothes carefully. I wanted to look good, even great, but not like I had tried. It needed to look casual. I found I had to do this a lot, maybe my entire life. I had to hide how much meticulous planning and attention I gave everything. Spencer had always worn that on her sleeve, like some sort of badge of honor. Look at me, I'm cazy neurotic, isn't it impressive? But not me. No one knew that I was just as bad as her. The worst of my critics did guess at it though. They guessed I was just as obsessive. Just as analytical. I made it all seem effortless. But everything was always calculated, part of a plan. Almost everything at least.

It was strange. I almost always felt one hundred percent in control. I loved it, it was a high. But sometimes, it didn't totally feel that way. Especially in regards to Emily. I would think I'd have a plan, and then I'd find myself doing something totally opposite. I would rehearse pushing her away only to find myself pulling her closer. I didn't understand it. I tried not to think about it.

I played it safe driving in my car on the way over. I stopped at every stop sign, looked both ways. I'd finished the bottle of wine, but it had been just over two hours and while my tolerance was mammoth, I was still buzzed. I hadn't eaten. No need to give a cop a reason to pull me over. Especially not a cop in this town.

I hopped out of my car, pressing my lips together, making sure my lip gloss was even.

"Ms. DiLaurentis, I have a question about my homework."

I froze, snapping my head towards the voice, seeing a shadow coming down the sidewalk. Then I heard her laugh.

"Emily!" I said, closing the space between us a little bit quicker than I meant to. Again, why could I never stick to my plan? Why could I never act casual?

"I'm so happy you're here."

I hugged her tightly. I move my hands up, cupping her face. There's a split second, I can't even help it, where I think about kissing her. I push it hard out of my mind.

"Me too," she said it sadly, looking down. It hurt to watch.

"It's been so long since I've seen you." I let her face fall out of my hands. "You look great."

And she does. Much more herself here than at the funeral. Relaxed, comfortable. Not the tall glamazon I knew she could be. That person always kind of intimidated me. It wasn't the girl I grew up with.

"You do too. Very California."

"You think?"

It was probably the buzz flirting, but how could I not? She looked great. No one wore flannel like she did. She deflected, but it made me smirk.

We kept talking, but I wasn't really paying attention. It was hard not falling back into old habits. I couldn't stop touching her. My Emily. It was easy to be angry when she wasn't looking at me, but almost impossible when she was. I practically forgot everything I'd felt earlier in the day. I reached out for her arm, leaning into her side as we walked to the house.

"…of a smoke a joint on the beach kind of party every day. Not my thing."

She stared into my eyes before she turned to the door, but I stopped her from going inside. I needed to get this out of the way. I didn't want to lie (too much) to her. Or maybe I didn't want to get caught later and have her ask me why I didn't tell her I was at the funeral.

I ripped the bandaid off.

"Hey, before we go in, I wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened with your dad."

"You knew?" she asked me and, I couldn't believe it, accusatorily.

About half a dozen cutting retorts flashed, white hot, through my mind. It took a lot, a monumentous amount of self-control, not to say any of them.

"I called you. I looked for you at the funeral," I said simply, face blank.

Emily's face immediately fell. She put a hand to her forehead. I felt guilty suddenly for ever having felt angry at all.

"I'm sorry. I..."

"Look, you don't have to say anything," I cut her off, taking her hand. I don't know if I'm stopping her to console her or because I don't think I can physically stand to watch her be in so much pain.

"I know what it's like to lose a parent."

I did, and I wish I didn't. It's a loss that never really heals. I didn't want her to know that she'll dream about him for months, years, where she'll wake up, realize he's gone, and it'll be like he's died all over again. That she'll miss him in odd moments, when she has some inane question about a family vacation or where a lost object is. It was like losing a limb; you'd never really thought about the thousands of ways you'd used it, needed it, until it was gone. You were angry you'd never appreciated it, realized how valuable it was. Even a toxic limb like my mother.

It was difficult to watch her face, to see how crushed she was. When I couldn't take it any longer, I pulled her to me. I moved my face into her neck. Sometimes it just felt like I fit there, like a missing piece of her body.

"I'm here."

I could've stayed there all night.

But we left shortly after with Hanna. Hanna was friendly, acted like she would've asked me to go out if Emily weren't in town. Like we were really all still friends. I'd spoken to her the least over the years, but I didn't mind keeping up the charade for Emily's sake. I wanted to keep her mind off of anything sad, off of her dad.

We arrived at the bar. We found a cozy table in the back. I checked my surroundings. Jesus, this place was not my style. I wondered what possessed Hanna to choose it. I sat across from Emily, with my back to the room. I didn't really feel like seeing the faces of anyone I knew or anyone who wanted to stare.

I felt my knees grazing Emily's under the table. She was warm and it was comforting. I wondered if I should check myself, to try to act "normal", like the way I treated the other girls. But I had never acted normal with Emily, and I was feeling protective, like she was hurt. I felt I needed to stay close, in all ways. I could allow myself this one thing, right?

I finished my first drink almost as fast as Hanna did, and it hit me. I was drunk. It was a wonderful feeling, really. It allowed me to let my guard down a little bit more, not be bothered so much by all the people, continue to feel the pressure of my legs against Emily's jeans. Enjoy the little things.

I tried to ask Emily about her life, but of course Hanna went on about hers. Then, with no warning, Hanna jumped up from the table.

"What is she doing now?" Emily pleaded.

I turned in my seat to look out over the crowd. She was definitely going to the bar. I saw a table full of guys behind, all eyes on Hanna, watch her sidle up to the bartender. I inwardly sighed, knowing maybe we only had another 10 minutes to ourselves before they approached us.

"Have you been here before?"

This snapped me out of my thoughts, and I turned back to Emily.

"I've heard of it, but I honestly don't go out much. I'm more of a house party girl."

But was that true? I guess so. I drank with all of my teacher friends. We rarely went out, not wanting to risk running into a parent or even a student pretending to be 21. House parties meant no driving as well and cheaper booze.

"Look at you, Alison. So tame now."

I smiled at her, slightly one-sided. I had an urge to put my hand on her knee, I'm not sure why. Maybe just to see how she reacted, call her bluff, the old game we used to play. But instead I shrugged, contemplating why it was I didn't, wouldn't go to places like this.

"These kinds of places are just so loud, the men so drunk, it's hard to actually have a real conversation."

Also, it was too easy, too predictable. Boring. I felt like I had learned the ins and outs of bars starting when I was 13. Every interaction followed the same rhythm with different lyrics. It was so easy to see where something was going, even from the first time a guy looked at you. Plus, none of these types of guys ever had what I wanted. I didn't need their validation, attention, or money. Sometimes, I wasn't even sure what I needed at all from them, besides a distraction, and how often were they any good at that?

"I don't know," Emily said, looking down into her beer. "Sometimes it's nice not to have to talk."

This surprised me in two ways. One, that Emily wouldn't want to talk. Sweet Emily, who had always been so vulnerable and able to share. And two, probably thanks to the bottle of wine and now the liquor, my mind jumped immediately to a scenario where we weren't talking. Where we were doing other things. I pressed my legs against hers again, almost involuntarily, trying to control the thought process. The alcohol wasn't helping.

"Look what I've got," Hanna shouted, a welcome diversion.

"Hanna!" Emily said back at her in surprise.

Hanna had three doubles of tequila. Lord.

"Ladies," Hanna said, scooting back into the booth, lifting her tequila shot.

I fingered the top of my glass. Oh, tequila. My old friend. Tonight may just be fun after all. I clinked my glass in the middle with the others, smiling.

"This is for Wayne Fields. Without him, we wouldn't have the wonderful best friend we have here with us today."

It was actually a nice touch for Hanna. I was happy she did it. We threw back the tequila, it hit my tongue in just the right way that it tasted like nothing at all. Hanna's was also gone in an instant, she blew out a sharp breath. At least we were on the same page with this one thing, this one time. I glanced at Emily.

"You realize you have to finish that right," I said, gesturing towards her glass, which she had pushed away from her, still half full.

"It's a double," she protested.

"That's the point!" Hanna said, moving the glass towards her again.

She took the rest. I watched her face, which was terrible, and it made me laugh at her.

"Oh my God, it burns."

"Are you a light weight, Em?" I asked, hoping she was. Again, not sure why. Just wanting us all to be at the same level, since I was already dangerously ahead.

She nodded. "Definitely."

"These are a lot better with a pineapple back," I said, gesturing at the glasses again. That's how I'd been taking them lately at least. I had a teacher friend I'd worked with who had introduced me to it, and it was all I ever did now. Tequila and salt just didn't taste as good. I liked the sweet better.

I realized the others were looking at me, like I'd just said I drank a bottle a day.

"I teach high schoolers, guys, I know my way around a bottle of tequila."

"Those must be some house parties," Emily said, and I actually liked that she was teasing me. I liked this more confident Emily. She took one of the limes and bit into it, and I watched her lips and tongue a little bit too closely. I looked away awkwardly, the room feeling much brighter and hotter for a second. Surely, it was the double of tequila taking effect.

"Fair enough," Hanna said.

"It's actually been awhile since I've gone out. Paige isn't much of a drinker," Emily shared, putting down her lime.

And with that, it felt like I had just bitten into the lime. Paige.

"Why not?" Hanna asked. "I thought that's what college was for."

"She's trying to get into the Olympic trials."

I take some measured breaths, make sure my face remains blank. But the image of Paige as an Olympian flies unbidden into my mind. Paige with a gold medal, on a podium. Paige on the front of the Rosewood newspaper. I wished, suddenly, that there was more tequila.

There was a slight pause.

"How _are_ things with Paige?" Hanna asked, and I was glad she did because I couldn't bring myself to do it. There was always this secret fear in the back of my mind that Emily would say something like, we're engaged. I wanted to think it bothered me only because it was Paige, of all people, but sometimes I wasn't so sure if that was totally why.

"Not so good right now. We broke up." This made me perk up. "I think I'm pretty much homeless when I get back."

"Unbelievable. I mean, your dad," I reacted, without even thinking. A more cutting remark is practically on the tip of my tongue before I stop it.

I'm annoyed with myself for showing, even a little, how much this bothered me. Hanna glanced at me, though I'm sure it meant nothing.

"Yeah, I know. To be fair, I haven't been great about it."

Who cared if Emily had been great about it or not? That's not what your girlfriend, boyfriend, whatever was supposed to care about. Plus, Paige should know better. This was Emily's dad dying for Christ's sake. It made me silently fume.

"That sucks," Hanna said glumly. "Caleb and I did, too. Not that long ago."

I take a furtive glance at Hanna. That explained the way she was acting at least. The drinking, the way she'd been checking out guys at this bar the moment we came in. As I look at her, I saw Emily take her hand and felt another flash of something. I don't hear what she said as I'm trying to process it.

"Yeah, he moved out. It's whatever," she said waving her hand. "He's in Europe right now, probably checking out Italian women in leather skirts." She looked miserable.

"No way, Hanna," I said. "Nobody likes Italians."

Hanna laughed at that.

"Everyone likes Italians," she argued.

"I'm not against them," Emily added. Hanna slapped her in the shoulder.

"But you'd like to be," I said lifting an eye brow, smirking.

But she ignored me. Which marked the second time. It made my competitive spirit itch. I wanted to get a rise out of her. I start thinking of ways I could do this, but it's going to be hard in front of Hanna.

"I mean, I could go and save him from them if you'd like, Hanna. I'm willing to do that for you,"

"Real sweet, Em." Hanna said, rolling her eyes. She turned to me.

"What about you, Ali? Any lucky guy in your life? Any sad break ups you can one up us with here?"

I almost missed the question, since I was still thinking of things I could do to make Emily blush. I shook my head and took a sip of my empty drink, the melting ice the only liquid left.

"Well, we're all young, single," Hanna said, suddenly slapping the table. "And it sounds like all our love lives are absolute shit," she continued, jumping up. "And there's only one cure for that: another round of shots!"

I was grateful. Yes, more tequila. But, predictably, one of the guys I had seen earlier stood up.

"I'll buy the next round," he said to Hanna. "If you agree to dance with me."

It made me want to roll my eyes. But I he wasn't the worst looking. Hanna, of course, accepted.

"And a vodka cranberry too," I yelled after them. He could be useful at least in that.

After a few minutes, they returned with our shots, and he led her away from the table. I slid my new drink in front of me. I watched Emily. Her cheeks were slightly pinker than earlier, which brought out her cheek bones. They were so high, regal, I sometimes thought. I knew she could probably feel the last couple of drinks. I felt her foot move under the table, tapping, she was always so full of energy, ready to go.

"All that guy's friends are watching you," I said, almost not registering that I was even talking. What am I doing? This was one of those moments where I didn't totally trust that I was in control. I felt myself enacting a plan before even I fully knew what it was.

"No, they aren't," she said back, looking embarrassed. "They're probably looking at you. Do you want to talk to them?"

I imagined Emily wing manning me with guys, I'm completely grossed out.

"Absolutely not. And, of course they're looking at _you_ , you're the prettiest girl in this place."

It wasn't even a lie, a white lie, you say to flatter someone. Emily was always the most beautiful girl in the place. Sometimes it made me jealous, that there was always so much competition for her attention.

"Do guys still hit on you a lot?" I asked. Of course they still did, but I wondered idly what she said to turn them away.

There was also something I liked about it, guys hitting on Emily. I hazard a thought down that avenue, towards how things were in high school, how we were. I don't usually let myself think about this, but with the tequila, wine, and vodka, there's a different driver in control. A drunk one. So we drive on. Back then, there was this part of me that liked that I alone had a power over Emily, that every guy, no matter how hot or charming or rich, held no sway. That was why I did what I did to her, at least originally. I liked that someone so beautiful, someone that everyone wanted, could only see me.

It changed later. That was something else I didn't like to think about it. I took a sip of my drink.

"Non stop. Sometimes I think about wearing a ring, just so I don't have to deal with it," she answered.

This reminded me of my fearful thought from earlier. Of Emily being engaged to Paige. It made me feel possessive, fierce, angry even. And maybe stemming from where my thoughts had just wandered…

"Well, how about for tonight," I started. "I can be your girlfriend."

I heard myself say it, and it surprised even me. Was this the plan? Was this what I was trying to do? I felt the warmth from the alcohol and heard the soberer, inhibited voice within me that told me not to flirt with her, that asked me what I was trying to do really. What would happen tomorrow? What would things be like a week from now? I ignored it. Instead, I listened to the one that told me to do it, that told me to brush my fingers lightly against hers, just grazing her fingertips.

She made a face, conflicted, confused, and glanced at my drink. "How many of those have you had, Ali?"

This irritated me. Again, she wasn't reacting to me. Third time. Well, I'd have to up the ante.

"Give me your hand," I said demandingly. "These shots are going to get hot."

She resisted, so I took her hand anyway, taking the salt shaker in the other. Not taking my eyes from hers, I licked the curve of her palm and then salted it.

"Well, thanks, Ali, they're definitely watching now," she said with a sideways glance at the table of guys.

"I'm not sorry," I said, and I wasn't. I did _not_ care about them.

I pulled her hand up to my mouth. This time, I tried to make it seem like I was kissing her hand, my tongue moving against her skin, my eyes locked with hers. With Emily's hand in my mouth, with my tongue massaging her skin, it should've occurred to me that I was drunk. Not in control. To take myself home. But I saw her mouth fall open, only slightly, and that was enough of a reaction for me. I felt satisfied. Mission accomplished.

When I threw the shot back, I had been looking at her eyes, her mouth. I did not take it correctly at all and worried for a moment that it might come back up.

"I thought you were an expert!" she accused me.

"Your turn," I said back.

She seemed to be trying to decide whether to do it or not, and I guess that's what I was daring her to do, the bet I was asking her to take or fold.

"Okay, Alison," she said, lifting up my wrist. I became suddenly excited, giddy. I couldn't believe she was actually going to rise to the occasion.

"You're my girlfriend for the night."

There was something in the way she said it, or maybe I realized that I'd wanted her to say it, like that, sexy, but before I could really think about it, her tongue was against my hand. It was brief, too brief.

"And as my girlfriend," she continued, shaking the salt.

"I fully expect you to keep me safe from guys. And maybe if I'm lucky..." she said suggestively, dropping her eyes to my lips, her tongue licking the salt away from my palm.

Holy fuck. I shifted uncomfortably. I almost couldn't handle it. I wanted to move across the table, throw it out of the way. I was one hundred percent turned on. Maybe I had started it as a joke, but it was far from it now. I almost felt frozen there, unable to move, unable to think of a response. Sure, I had brought this on myself. But it was fun right? It didn't mean anything, did it?

She finished the shot.

My memory became a bit blurry after that. I remembered dancing with her, jumping on her, her hands pressed hard into the back of my legs. I remembered not letting guys talk to her. Because she was mine for the night, she'd said it herself. Maybe it was just a game. A joke. But it also kind of wasn't, not to me. I really didn't want anyone else touching her or talking to her. Any random guy could flirt with her whenever they wanted. She was only in Rosewood, with me, for this one night.

I was thinking about that, my eyes looking at nothing really, in the truck on the way home. How Emily would leave tomorrow and it would be like she'd never been here at all. How Hanna would go back to New York and things with us would still, always be, tense again. They all hated Rosewood and me, I felt, by association. No one knew why I stayed. But they'd never really understood me, never even wanted to, except maybe Emily.

And then something disturbed me from my thoughts, things took a turn. I felt her sliding her hand across mine, massaging her fingers into my palm. Our hand holding having been distinctly chaste before was not now. Her elbow was behind my head, and I felt myself move into her, not away, losing another control battle in my mind. Why did I do this?

A part of me was frustrated, a part of me was not. I tried not to look at her. I tried not to react. The others in the front were distracted, not paying attention. It would be so easy to…

She touched my face, and it took almost everything to not… I don't even know what. I had to close my eyes to concentrate. I felt her lips, her breath against my neck, and I couldn't check myself. I gripped her hand hard, crushing her fingers in my grasp, shifting to move away, but also not away and back towards. I turned to look at her.

She was staring back at me, her expression languid, almost tired even, but it reminded me of a big cat, who was trying to trick its prey into thinking it was bored. I knew I was in her sights, and that she wasn't done with me. I realized how close we were, practically on top of one another in the cab. Her hand grazed into my hair, and I can't stop myself from looking at her lips. I wondered if she knew what she was doing to me.

She moved forward. She was definitely going to kiss me. Right here. In this truck. With two strangers and Hanna. Hanna, who had always seemed to know about my feelings for Emily. A part of me had always hated her for it.

"Emily," I said, as she hovered in front of me, her mouth centimeters from mine. I pulled away, even though it was physically painful.

This was not what Emily wanted. She moved into me, kissing my neck, teasing me, torturing me. Daring me to kiss her. I felt for her legs, through her jeans, unable to stop myself. I wanted to touch her back, I wanted her to be on me.

Then I felt her hand go under my skirt. A part of me wondered if this was why I'd worn one. Another plan I'd hidden from myself? I closed my eyes in the all consuming effort it was taking not to react, but I knew my resistance was shattering, about to break. If she touched me in the back of this truck, I knew I was going to have to fuck her right there, in front of the boys, Hanna, God, and everyone.

"...you know, Ali?"

I realized my lip had been in my mouth, I'd been biting down hard. Emily quickly withdrew her hand, making me wonder if this wasn't this first time she'd done something like this. I had no idea what Hanna had said. She looked at me expectantly.

"Wasn't this band great in concert?" she prompted again.

"Oh, uh huh." I had no idea what song was even playing.

"Oh my God, were you sleeping? You two are so lame."

I glared at her as she turned back around. I can't decide if I'm angry that she's always been my perpetual cock block or glad that her interruption stopped me from hands down devouring Emily.

I looked back at Emily, my Emily, as I felt her nose brush mine before she kissed me. Her lips are soft, full, and I let it continue for a moment before yanking my head back.

"I am going to kill you later." I grabbed her knee, remembering she was ticklish there, and she jumped like I anticipated.

There was always that moment for me, when I knew what I was going to do, and couldn't be stopped. I was past the point where I was going to try and resist, past the point of caring about the next day. When her hand was under my skirt, that was it. That was the end of my resolve.

I used her movement to curl my heel around her ankle, moving her legs apart. As I did it, I dragged my tongue up the side of her neck.

"Ali," she said, and I loved the sound of it, mad that I hadn't heard it more.

"Two can play this game, huh?" I said back into her ear, licking the spot just behind it.

I toyed with the wasteband of her jeans, my fingers having a mind of their own, as I sucked hard behind her ear, definitely leaving a mark. I felt her make a noise, closed mouth. I loved having this kind of control again.

She tried to kiss me, but I avoided it this time. Mainly just to fuck with her. She gets a look, one I haven't seen before. It's hungry, craving, determined. It was the adult version of the way she used to look at me, but intensified and shamelessly sexual. I felt like she might attack me, and that I'd like it.

"Drop us off at the end of this block," Hanna's voice carried over the music.

I thought about what I would do to her next, popping the top button of her jeans without even looking down. I didn't want to wait. Nor did I want any witnesses.

"Drop us off here, my house is right there," I said. The truck stopped.

I pulled Emily out of the car with an iron grip. There was literally nothing Hanna could say to stop me. In that moment, there was nothing anyone could've said to stop me.

I finally have her in my house, have her pinned against the door. Our mouths were dangerously close, I could feel her breath, which was hot. I was practically on top of her, screaming for her to touch me. I didn't know if we were going to make it to my bedroom.

"Well," I said.

She leaned in to kiss me. I pulled back again, playful at this point. But she wasn't having it, she forced our mouths together, her hand on the back of my neck. I liked how she'd taken control, I liked giving the control up to her.

As her lips pressed across mine, her tongue darting into my mouth, I thought, she hasn't kissed me like this, probably ever. I'm not sure if anyone has. With so much need, so much fervor. The pushing and pulling, it felt like a dance. Or like fighting, wrestling. I wasn't sure if that was coming from me or her. Probably me. I felt her hands move across my stomach. I felt her fingernails on my back. Fuck.

I dragged her into my bedroom. She took off my clothes, something I'd been wanting her to do for a long time, maybe ever since I'd found out she was gay.

I spun us around, seating her on the edge of my bed. I slowly took off my heels, showing off a little, letting her watch me. I climbed onto her lap, straddling her. I pressed my thumb across her lips as I pushed my other hand through her thick hair. She always looked perfect, to me at least. I kissed her again. Slowly. I have a thought that arouses me, but it's odd. _I know what Emily Fields tastes like_. Like a type of pride. I take off her shirt.

I pushed her back against the bed, and walked my fingers across the bare skin of her stomach, which was as ever lean and muscled.

"You were really turning me on in the truck," I said. "Now how to punish you?"

I couldn't help it. I ground my hips on her and she grabbed my ass. I pinned her to the bed.

"No touching. No kissing. And if you can't behave, I'm going to have to tie you up," I said, again surprised at some of the things that had come out of my mouth tonight. It's not like they were unlike me, it's not like I hadn't thought about saying exactly that to Emily. I just didn't think I ever would. Thanks tequila.

I pulled off her jeans. Wow, it was more fun to disrobe women than men, especially in this scenario. Guys always stood there, so stupidly. Dumbstruck. Emily watched me, her tongue against her lip, and it was sexy as hell.

"Now don't move," I said, dipping downward. "Or I'll stop."

To be honest, I didn't totally know what I was doing, I hadn't done it before. But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't watched quite a bit of instruction online. That I hadn't read about it, fantasized. I'd thought about it extensively, had a strategy, a game plan. That was why I'd watched porn. It was all preparation really.

I licked her inner thigh and she said my name, moving.

"Don't move," I said back. She didn't. God, this was fun.

For Emily and I, the first time we'd been together, there was a lot of fumbling in the dark, a lot of new exploration. That's not what I wanted this time. I wanted her, in every aspect. Like ownership. If she had a list of girls she'd "been" with, I wanted to be on it in an official capacity. No confusion.

I glanced down at her, vulnerable, spread beneath me. An instrument to play. I started playing with her clit, which took me a moment to orient myself with. Obviously, I had one, so I knew the basics, but this was still different. I wanted to draw this out as much as I could, so I made sure not to do anything too good at first. But I could tell she was frustrated, and didn't want to lose what we had either. So, I did what worked for me, and I started to move in light circles. And increased the pressure slowly.

"Fuck," she said, great encouragement.

I continued to massage her inner thighs, while I touched her, stalling. I was nervous. A little scared. What if I wasn't good at it? But I just had to go for it, like I did with everything.

I pressed my tongue against her, into her, flicking, licking. I heard her moan, felt the sheets move below us as she clutched them, trying not to move. I stayed focused. As I continued, her legs began shaking, moving, definitely violating my rule. But I didn't want to stop, not right now, I could feel I was close. Suddenly, I remembered my hands, which were resting on her thighs, kneading the top of her legs. Oh yeah, step two. I repositioned myself and moved a finger inside her, and began pushing it in and out. She liked it, loved it, fuck, I did too. I was actually getting into it. I was wet.

She pulled me up suddenly, pulling my body flat against hers. I could feel the heat of her skin, the light sweat. Her tongue was in my mouth, the kiss was deep. Adapting, not wanting to stop, I lifted her leg up, hooking one hand under her knee. I positioned myself over her, wondering how I could use both hands but also hold myself up. I'd have to choose two out of three. I opted to hold myself up with one hand and go inside her with the other. I moved my hips against her, too, like it was them controlling my hand motions. It was an interesting feeling. Like I was a guy. But more like I was in control, and I liked it.

She shivered, gripping both of my arms tightly. Yes, she was going to cum. It was hard not to think some sort of stupid thought like, I win.

"Alison," she said, tearing away from my mouth. I looked at her face, I wanted to see it. As she spasmed, god it was so sexy, I dipped my face to her neck. And with several fingers inside her, I bit her.

It surprised me. Why did I do it? Why did I ever do anything with Emily? It just felt right.

There was a long moment after where she had her eyes closed, and I just watched her. I loved the face she was making. Like she was coming down from a euphoric drug, back to earth. But it was a little more than that, a darker feeling mixed in. I was feeling extremely possessive, like she wasn't going anywhere. Like she was mine. The intensity of the feeling was scaring me a little bit.

Her eyes fluttered open. I began to trace my nail down her jaw as we locked eyes, I don't know, I wanted to keep touching her. She took my finger and put it in her mouth.

Fuck.

"My turn," she said.

* * *

Emily's just left. I'm standing at my door, stupidly, dumbly it feels like, still holding it open. Like she's going to come back. I walk away from it, shoving my hands against my face.

At first, I'd been happy when I woke up. It had been like a dream. Then reality set in. Then she left.

Should I go after her? Should I make her stay? I know she would stay if I asked.

I pick up my phone to call her, to text her. And I put it down. If I'd wanted her to stay, why didn't I just say it? Why did I do this?

I felt crazed. I flew back into my bed. I could smell her hair on my pillow. She had really been there. Just moments ago sleeping. We'd been sleeping together. We had slept together.

I pulled the covers over my face. Blocking out the light.

This is why I couldn't call her, couldn't tell her to stay. She had a life in California.

But maybe I could follow her there. No, I couldn't. Her dad had just died. That thought causes a feeling to settle into the pit of my stomach, like a rock sinking to the bottom of a moving river. Maybe that's why this had happened. Maybe she was reeling. Sabotaging. Maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe I could've been anyone.

No. I couldn't believe it. Emily wasn't like that with me, Emily wasn't like that with anyone. Maybe If I went there…

I try to think of what it would be like to be with Emily, actually be with her. It's a thought I've actively repressed. For years. We could've done this every day in that universe. And, why not, in this place there would be no A. No secret siblings. Maybe even I had never been so cruel to everyone, to her, where my mother had never brought out and molded the literal worst in me. Instead of her leaving, we could be making breakfast.

It's physically painful to think about, like someone squeezing my heart in my chest, a fist full of my blood and muscle. I cover my face again, even though I am already under the comforter. It feels like there cannot be a deep enough place to hide. I don't know how long I lay like that. I don't sleep.

I hear my phone buzz against the dresser. I throw the sheets off of me, snatching it up.

 **Hanna:** Say girl, are you alive?

I couldn't be more disappointed if Jenna herself had texted me. I roll my eyes, taking my phone back into bed. I consider the question.

 **Alison** : Barely.

I see her typing, like she's sitting there, in her bed, staring at her phone too.

 **Hanna:** What was up with you and Emily last night?

I reread the text. I wonder if she meant the question as rhetorical because she couldn't possibly expect me to answer it. I squeeze my phone tightly in my hand. I flash back to when we discovered whose body had been buried in my grave, to just before Toby's house blew up. The way Hanna looked at us, when we were holding hands.

I'm annoyed that she got me to respond, so she would know that I saw the next text. I flip my phone over, face down. I know she is probably mad about last night, that I left her with those two guys. That I took Emily away. I know I'm probably the asshole in the situation, but it still riles me. She probably wants me to lie, to say nothing happened, to prove I'm still the old Ali. Well, tough shit.

I walk downstairs and start to make breakfast.

I'm moving the eggs around, thinking again about Emily. Thinking about my night. I drop the spatula and go get my phone again. I text her.

 **Alison:** It was good seeing you again. I hope you come back soon.

 **Alison:** I'm thinking of you.

I look down at my own words staring back at me. It's weird to see those words outside of my own mind. They look so paltry. Weak, even. But I think there are never going to be enough of the right words to tell her what's going on with me. It's better to just say nothing, hide everything. I shouldn't have sent the texts. But how could I send nothing?

I see her begin to type back.

 **Emily:** I'm thinking of you too.

I stare at her response. I let the eggs burn.

I lean against the counter and think again about going there. Buying a ticket. Flying across the country for someone. Would that make it a love affair? Is that what it was already? Or was this a one time thing? Something we would never talk about again? That's what our past would indicate it was. Is it already too late?

She's probably already boarding the plane. I think a few absolutely insane thoughts in succession. I think about who could die that might bring her back here. I think about calling the airport and telling them a bomb is on her plane. Anything that might delay her.

I sit at my island, abandoning the thought of food, looking balefully at the burned eggs.

Even if I did show up in California, what would she be doing? Moving her things out of Paige's? Paige. I grind my teeth again. She'd be going back to classes. Waking at night with nightmares about her dad. Serving strangers at a strange beach bar. What if she didn't even want to see me? What if this thing that had… finally happened was at the wrong time? What if it was a mistake to Emily? I try not to feel totally crushed.

But hope. What if I went there and she was happy to see me? And we were happy, both, together? Long drives down the beach. Hanging on her in the ocean, the sun in her hair. Do I stay there? Does she come here?

It's like I'm looking at our whole relationship from beginning to end, like flipping one of those cartoon books. What if it ended? The way she and Paige ended. I press my palms against my forehead again, my elbows propped on the island. I couldn't take it. I couldn't take actually having her and then losing her. At least what we had now, talking every couple of weeks, months sometimes, was more than not talking at all.

I remember losing her after the first time we'd hooked up. Her not taking my calls, thinking I was A.

" _Bravo."_

That was it. I couldn't go through that again. This is why I said we shouldn't talk about it. I'd been selfish last night and this was the cost, after all. These feelings the next day. This was my punishment. I needed to just take it. This is what I deserved.

I pick up my phone, look at the blank screen. Put it back down.

If I went there, to California, there was no way I wouldn't do what I'd done again. I would tell myself I wouldn't, that we were just friends, but I'd do it. I'd make secret plans. I'd execute them. And there we would be again, I'd be kissing her in a hotel room, in the water, in the car. Especially now that I'd tasted her. Especially when I couldn't even resist it last night.

No, I couldn't see her. I wouldn't call her. I wouldn't go there. I couldn't hold her back.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I was planning on ending this after those chapters, but it's been fun, so why not keep going. Also, we've got, what, 5-6 months until Season 7B? We have time to kill. Also, I've been watching the devastating PLL wrap snap chats. ROUGH. Need some distraction.

* * *

6 months later.

* * *

 _ **Emily.**_

It's been awhile.

Things have not been great. I've been drinking. A lot. Blacking out. Running into people who I've never met before, but they know my name and weird details. Here's that CD we talked about!, they'd say. What?

Part of it was because Paige was no longer around to wet blanket everything. The other part was I just couldn't deal sometimes with being sober. Everything felt crushing. Wrong. Misaligned. I didn't feel like I belonged anymore at Pepperdine. People were so happy there. Golden, blonde, filled with hope. I was a dark, black, rain cloud. But I didn't know how to quit. It felt a lot like Paige, actually. I kind of just figured they'd break up with me eventually. So, I went overboard, really tried to go for gold in the drinking department.

Last night was such an instance. I don't remember how I got home, when I got home. I wake up to a crushing headache, intense nausea. You'd think drinking as much as I did now, this kind of feeling would pass. But it just seemed to be getting worse. Maybe it was just a perk of getting into my 20's. I swear, I used to be fine the next day. Maybe a little shaky, but fine by 11. Not any more.

I pat my bed, looking for my phone in my sheets. Doing my usual checks. I look for my wallet and keys. They're on the floor by my bed. Good. I'm still in my clothes from last night. That's a plus.

I have a surge of nausea. I was going to have to go running today to get these toxins out of my system. I'd probably vomit on the boardwalk again. The tourists seemed to like that. Welcome to Los Angeles!

I unlock my phone, scrolling through my texts. Thank God. I didn't do anything stupid. No weird texts to Paige or to anyone random from the night. That's refreshing for once. I flip over to calls.

I freeze. Outgoing Call. 11 minutes. ELEVEN minutes? To Alison DiLaurentis.

Shhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

I sit up in my bed, staring at it. Trying to will it out of existence. Hoping, even though I've read it 9 times, that it doesn't really say that. It does. What the fuck did I say for 11 minutes. Why did I call Alison? Alison, of all people? Why did she answer? It was 2 AM. What did she say?

I have that familiar feeling. Like I know I've done something stupid, embarrassing, but I don't know what it is. Should I text her to ask? She didn't text me anything. That's almost worse.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm practically drowning in mortification. What did I say?

As I'm sitting there, a song comes back to me. I don't know what it is. Someone had been singing it to me. Was it.. Alison?

I tear out of bed, almost throw up in my closet as I change into my work out clothes, and basically run out of the apartment. I can't deal with this.

* * *

 _ **Alison.**_

I look through the thick airplane glass, out over the clouds, they're so bright and white. Like I could just lay on them and sleep forever. I wonder how close I am. I'm literally flying over the whole country, all of the midwestern topography.

I don't even know what I packed. I tried to think what I used to wear in the cape and threw all that in there. I almost thought of not bringing anything at all, just buying what I needed when I got there. Packing had made me second guess what I was doing, and if I'd thought about it more, I wasn't going to do it. So, who knew what I'd find in my suitcase when we landed.

I shut the window. I was exhausted. I hope she remembered calling me last night. She probably didn't. But I was coming anyway.

xxx

 _It's 2 AM. I'm taking a bath with a glass of wine because I can't sleep. Charlotte had a rough day. I guess we had a rough day._

 _My phone buzzes. It takes me a moment to realize what's happening, I can hear it through the water, through the porcelain. I lift my head out, all of the water shifting, and look around for my phone. Someone calling me right now? I get nervous, hoping nothing has happened._

 _ **Emily Fields.**_

 _I look at it, not quite understanding. I'm even more confused and apprehensive. I slide the bar over._

 _"Hello?"_

 _"Hey babe," I hear her say back, and her voice sounds so foreign, so weird, I check my phone again to make sure I'd seen correctly. Yes, it was Emily's number. I hear her laugh at herself somewhere between a giggle and a snort._

 _"Hi," I say back tentatively._

 _"Why are-why aren't you sleeping?" she says accusingly. Why aren't you sleeping Emily? Why are you calling me?_

 _But hearing her voice again, I realize what's going on. She's hammered drunk. And she's drunk dialing me._

 _"You sound like you had fun tonight. I hope you're at home," I say, dropping some more bubble bath solution in the bath._

 _"Ugh, I am, mom," she says, the last word bitter. It makes me smile because she sounds ridiculous, like a surly teen._

 _There is a short pause._

 _"I haven't talked to you in awhile," I say to her, settling back into the bath, my neck submerged in the water._

 _"I know," she says flatly._

 _I gulp, for some reason, thinking about how many months had passed. We'd texted briefly, memes, cat photos, but nothing substantial. We hadn't spoken on the phone. I had no idea what was going on with her._

 _"How are you?" I ask._

 _She heaves a great sigh._

 _"I can't sleep. I'm failing my classes. My apartment, it's a mess. What a dump," she says, and I feel like I hear her hurl something across the room._

 _"I'm," I start. I'm not sure what I am. "I'm sorry, Emily."_

 _She sighs, somewhat disdainfully. I just listen to her breathing, her making odd noises, maybe sheets or her clothes, a rustling in the background. Then, it's silent. Like she's laid down on her bed. Or maybe looking out a window. I just listen to the silence, looking at bubbles on the surface of the water._

 _"Do you," she starts and it alarms me, it had been so long since she said anything. "Do you ever think about that night?" she said, slurring a little._

 _I don't know what to say. I wonder if she'll remember this. I want to play dumb. What night? But I don't want to insult her. I wonder exactly HOW drunk she is. I could tell her the truth, if I knew she wouldn't remember. I remember her intro, "Hey babe." Had she been quoting me? The pause extends, elongating, as I struggle for words, my mouth open._

 _"Where have you been, Ali?" she says, sounding so sad. Dejected. It hurts me._

 _"I've been right here." Being good. Following the plan. I think about quoting her, "You're the one who's been gone." But I don't._

 _"I need you here," she slurs again. "I need you to come here."_

 _"Where?"_

 _"Here."_

 _"To California?" I ask._

 _"Will you come?" she says again, almost mumbling, it was hard to make out her words. Like she was talking into her pillow._

 _"I'll come," I say back. I knew I shouldn't. Maybe I wouldn't. Maybe she wouldn't remember this._

 _"Really?" she said._

 _"Yeah."_

 _"Where do you live?" I ask, realizing I'm not sure._

 _"3rd and Montana.. Right by a green taco place._

" _Is that … in Malibu?" I ask._

" _Mmmmm, tacos."_

 _This makes me smile. "Focus, Em."_

" _What? Oh." She snort laughs at me again. "No, Ali, it's in Santa Monica."_

 _Like I would possibly know that. I sigh, but I write it down in my phone notes._

 _"I'll be there."_

 _She breathes loudly into the phone again, but this time more contentedly. "Ali, you're the best."_

 _I hate how much I like hearing this from her, even if it's barely her, the drunkest form of herself._

 _"Thanks, Em."_

 _"Will y-will you tell me a story or something? Help me go to sleep."_

 _I think about saying no, but I can't. Not thinking of the countless sleepless nights over the years. Even the drunken ones. What I might've given to have Emily help me get to sleep._

 _"Yeah. Let me think."_

 _It's weird, and I can't believe I'm about to do it, but I start to sing the song my mom used to sing to me when I was little. Little Sparrow._

 _She makes a sound, it's cute, like she's turned over in bed.._

 _"Love you."_

 _She hangs up. I look at the phone, not totally sure what to do, not totally sure what's just happened. I wonder if she would have left a voicemail if I hadn't answered. What she would've said._

 _She wanted me to come there. She needed me. I hesitate briefly._

 _I shift over to my flight app. I buy the first ticket out in the morning._

xxx

And that's where I was now. On the longest flight ever with a 3 hour time, no sleep, and no coffee. The timing wasn't terrible. It was spring break, so I was off all week. The only thing was, I'd had to make up a lie to Charlotte. I told her I would be back in a couple of days, but honestly, I'd only bought a one way flight. I wasn't sure when I'd be back that week. If things went terribly, maybe I'd be back tonight. If not, later. I was hoping for later. If I think too much about it, it seems crazy, what I'm doing. So, I don't.

I look down at my phone again, where I've put the address of Emily's place. It's going to be awkward if she gave me the wrong address, if I show up at some stranger's place. I'm not planning to call ahead, I just want to show up there, like I've materialized out of thin air. It's probably rude, but I feel like Emily would've tried to stop me, avoid me even if I told her I was coming.

So tired, I close my eyes, my mind floating toward what it will look like in California. I've actually never been. People had always told me, you look like you're from Cali. But the truth was, I loved the east coast. I liked the harsh winters, the fall colors, the people. The people in the city were always smart asses, confident, sarcastic, sassy. Everything on TV about Cali seemed like the people were fake, shallow, vain. I hoped it wasn't like that. Honestly, I just wanted to see the Pacific. I wanted to see Emily, her facing me, smiling, while the sun set over the water behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Emily.**

My heart is pounding, I can feel the blood pumping through my chest, bursting through my ears, through my brain. I have to stop. I come crashing to a halt, heaving for breath, feeling the blackness trying to close in.

I bend over, my palms flat against my knees, heaving. I'm looking unfocused at my shoes, at the fabric that used to be white and is now brown. My breathing comes in gasps, ragged, as I watch a few drops of sweat hit the pavement, darkened, huge, circular. I start to come myself then as I feel the sea breeze coming off of the ocean, and I squint up into the sun.

I'd been running on the boardwalk, who knows how long, and I'd veered off back towards my apartment. Sprinting. But the alcohol, all the poisons I'd put into my body, was making it difficult. I'd had to make several stops. Today's performance was definitely one of the worst.

I just can't stop thinking about _that call_ , what I said. I can't stop thinking about Alison. And even the run is not blocking it out. Why Alison? We were barely talking, it had been months and months since we'd even spoken on the phone. There are dozens of other people I could've called. Hundreds. Why her? That might as well have been my running mantra.

Why her?

I start walking briskly again. No breaks. I pass my green taco stand.

"Hola, amiga!"

It startles me, but I relax when I see Paulo's face. He was smiling at me through his window. He gives me a once over, lifting his eye brows.

"You looking a little rough today, girl!"

I smile weakly back at him. "What do you mean?"

"It's just usually half your makeup isn't usually smeared across your face," he says.

My hands immediately jump to my face, and I scramble to find something reflective. I bend over, staring into the metal of the side of the stand.

"What? I don't see anything?"

But he's laughing at me. "But you thought you might, didn't you? That's how I know you had a long night!

I sheepishly look down, stretching my calf against the side of the stand, not really wanting to get into it.

"You need breakfast? I've still got some breakfast tacos left."

I shook my head, still not having much of an appetite.

"No, thanks, Paulo. Not today. I could use a water though."

He tossed me a water bottle through his open window. I caught it, glancing down.

"Running like that down the street and you didn't bring no water?"

"That's what you're here for, isn't it?" I smirk back at him.

"True," he says. "The hangover is why I'm in business!"

I twist off the cap and start drinking. It tastes like the best water I've ever head. God's nectar. I immediately start to feel better, lighter. Maybe _that call_ doesn't mean anything. Maybe she never got it. Maybe she was drunk too and doesn't remember it. But then I remember the last time we were both drunk together and painfully repress the memory, like pulling a record off a player before it can start. The lightness is short lived.

I toss him a dollar that I'd stuffed into my sports bra. I nod at him in goodbye.

"Okay, no tacos this morning. But do you want to hear a joke?"

I laugh lightly at him, turning back to face him. "How much is THAT going to cost me?"

He shrugs. "This one's on the house. I feel like you need it."

I playfully roll my eyes. "Fine. Hit me with your best."

"A skeleton walks into a bar," he starts. Oh, it's going to be one of those. "And says, give me a beer and a mop!"

He looks at me expectantly. I smirk a little.

"You're going to have to keep going. I don't think that was worth a nickel."

"Such high standards," he sighs, thinking.

After a moment, he starts again. "Okay, I've got it. A guy with dyslexia walks into a bra."

That one does actually make me laugh a little. "Oh my God, Paulo. I think I need to go home now," I say, pretending that I'm going to walk away, taking a few steps.

"No, no, wait, I've got one more," he called after me. "A baby seal," he starts. "Walks into a club."

I full on laugh. "That is so dark," I say to him, taking another swig of my water.

And it's as I'm looking up, laughing, throwing back the water, that I see her. Her. _Her_. I pull the water bottle away. She's standing there on the side walk, ten feet away, as if she's just teleported. I'm so confused, there's even a part of me that thinks I'm hallucinating it. That's not Alison standing there. No, it can't be, I'm still reeling from my last sprint. But as I stare at her, she only becomes more real, sharper, brought into clarity. It's like the seconds slow down to half seconds, the wind blowing through her golden curls in slow motion, slower, and slower, until I feel like time has completely frozen still.

"Hello, hello," Paulo says, wiggling his eye brows, having followed my gaze. I had totally forgotten he was there.

Somehow I manage to glance down. She has a suitcase. I probably wouldn't hallucinate her with a suitcase.

"Alison?" I ask finally.

She moves, like a portrait coming to life, and walks towards us. She stops just in front of me. The breeze picks up again, and I can smell her. _Her._ The scent I could track like a blood hound.

"The green taco stand," Alison says, her eyes grazing over it.

I can't stop staring at her. It's like I've seen a ghost. Taco stand? I have no idea what she's talking about. How did she know about this place? How did she get here?

"We're actually called Me Gusta," Paulo says with flare. "Though 'Green Taco Stand' that's a little easier, I guess."

There's a short pause, where I still can't manage to say anything.

"Can I interest you in anything? I'll even through in a discount since it seems like you know my friend Emily here."

Alison smiles, the one that's slow, spreading like a sun rise over her face, and shakes her head no. I look at Paulo, stalling, trying to figure out what to say. I feel like I've gone into shock.

"Nothing for me. But it does seem like _your_ friend is actually _my_ friend," she says, with an intonation, in only that way Alison can do. Like flirting but also like intimidation.

I look back at her. I see her move, almost like a jerk, as if to take my arm, but then she doesn't.

"How long have you known Emily?" she says so calmly, with that smile. Those dimples.

"Oh, Emily and I go way back, chica. She's been doing her morning booze run past my business now for what, a couple of months?"

This snaps me out of it a little.

"Pualo, no—" I say, trying to stop him.

"Yep, couple of months," he continues, enjoying my discomfort. "I've only seen her yak once. Just over there—" he said pointing to a patch of sidewalk. I follow his finger, feeling extremely embarrassed.

I laugh awkwardly, taking Alison's arm and pulling her away.

"That's enough! Thank you, Paulo!"

"Bring your beautiful friend back later!"

Beautiful friend. It's enough to make my cheeks feel hot.

Alison actually resists my arm on hers for a moment though, dragging her feet, turning back to him.

"Wait," she says. "I've got one."

Paulo looks at her a little confused. I literally have no idea what's about to come out of her mouth.

"Two peanuts walk into a bar. One was assaulted."

It takes him a moment, but then he laughs loudly. I can't help but look at her in surprise. Had she overheard my conversation? How long had she been standing there?

"I'm stealing that one from you!" he shouts after us.

She lets me continue to lead her away, but turns her face back to mine, with that smile, her eyes twinkling, a little bit like she's proud of herself and looking for my validation. A smile plays my lips, I can't even help it. I think, she will never not surprise me. Which reminds me.

We come to a stop as we turn the corner.

"Ali," I say, "what are you doing here?"

She searches my face without making an expression, like she's trying to have all the facts before she speaks. But after a moment, I also feel like I see a flicker of annoyance before she sighs, looking downward.

"You called me last night. You asked me to come."

"I-I-what?" I stammer.

"I thought you might not remember, you sounded pretty gone, but…" she says, trailing off.

I stare at her in disbelief. I'm shocked. Why would I do that? Why would I call her and ask her to come? And why would she do it?

"Alison-I mean-I'm so sorry. I don't remember calling you," I say finally. "I don't remember asking you to come here, I mean, I can't believe I did that. I'm so sorry," I say, starting to fully ramble. "I can't believe and I did that and I can't believe—" but I cut myself off.

She looks back at me expectantly, waiting.

"That you came," I finish dully.

Her expression shifts. Her gaze is suddenly more serious. Our eyes are locked. I feel like there's a tendril, pulled taut between us.

"Of course I did," she says solemnly.

The moment drags out, everything feels charged.

"What else did I say?" I say, not being able to hold her gaze any longer. I push a hair that's come loose from my pony tail out of my face, I almost want to close my eyes. Like I can't physically stand to see her tell me what I said.

"I was just-I mean," Ali falters, her eyes fluttering away. I realize it's one of those rare moments that she doesn't look perfectly composed. She's pressing her hands together, massaging her fingers.

"I'm just—I'm worried about you. I want—" and she broke off again, before steeling herself. "I want to spend time with you. And, look, I know you didn't expect this. And we didn't plan it. But I'm here now."

I keep staring at her. I guess I'm not used to Ali, well, telling me the truth.

"It can be like a vacation. Let's make the most of it?" she asks, lilting her head to the side.

I think about what she's saying, and not saying. We could make this awkward. She could go home having never spent time with me. Or we could be our old selves. Have a good time. We were friends, right? Even best friends at one point? Why shouldn't I just be happy she was here? Something about the way she's holding herself makes me think she really wants me to say yes. Stay.

She looks around slightly uncomfortably, and I watch how the afternoon sun is glinting off of her bright blue eyes. She looks alarmingly good for, what I assume, was travelling over night.

"You know," she starts. "I've never been to California."

And the way she says it, it's like there is a vulnerability there, a fragility. I can't help it. I shake my head, finally snapping out of it. Without really thinking, I pull her tightly into a hug, my arms wrapped around her back, one hand pushing up to the nape of her neck.

"I'm sorry—" I start.

"Don't," she interrupts me, her breath in my hair.

"No, I am, Ali. I should've done this when I first saw you. I'm so happy you're here," I say, and I swear I can feel her relax, that she's relieved to hear me say this. It makes me hug her a little harder, to think that she thought I might not want her here. I feel her fingers play with the pony tail at my back.

I think of all the times I wanted her to be here, which was a lot freshmen year of college when I'd first moved. We talked all the time, on the phone all through the night. It used to annoy the shit out of my roommate. I would go down the hall, sit talking to her for hours on the phone in the stairwell. Sometimes, I would go walk the campus, describing everything I saw in detail. Ali always loved my stories about school. Back then, it physically ached for me to think of her back in Rosewood. I hated being so far away from her. I must've thought a million times about bringing her here, showing her my life, all the little things I know she liked. It was one of those things that I always assumed would just happen, but it never did.

I'm not sure how long we're hugging before I pull back from her slightly, my arm still around her waist, my other on her shoulder. Her face is still close to mine. It's a tense moment, the invisible tendril feels taut again. I become aware of how I'm touching her, where I'm touching her. I let my hands fall from her body, taking a step backwards. I wonder if there will always be a part of me that is afraid of Ali's rejection.

"I can't believe you've never been here. Where do you want to go first?" I ask, tentatively, slightly excited, nervous.

"It's spring break, you don't have to go to school, right?"

I shake my head.

"Do you have room for me in your apartment?"

My apartment. Oh my God, it's a wreck. Ali seems to read my expression seamlessly.

"How about I get a hotel? You can come enjoy the amenities with me."

On the last part, she slips her fingers against mine, taking my hand. At this touch, it's like I'm entranced by her. Like she's put a spell on me. I feel like I see her in slow motion again, all the times she's ever looked at me like this over the years. On our walks to school, in class, at dinners, on my bed, in her bed. All the times I know I shouldn't return the look, but I do.

"That sounds good," I say back, smiling again at her.

"And, honestly, Em?" she says. "I really want to see the beach." She glances over my shoulder, like she's trying to see the ocean, but the buildings are blocking it. As she does this, the wind catches her hair again, she is so beautiful. She pushes it back behind her ear.

"We can do that," I say, slightly transfixed.

And then I think suddenly about what we can do, what she would love. And I must be smiling in a certain way or Ali can read my mind like always because she tilts her head towards mine.

"What is it?" she asks, a smile at the corner of her mouth.

"I've got an idea," I say.

"What is it?" she says again more eagerly, a light in her eye, squeezing my hand. She always loved a good secret.

"It's a secret."

"Oh, Emily," she says with a sigh. But I know she's not going to give up. I glance down at her bag.

"Did you bring a bathing suit?"

She looks at me like I've just asked if she's ever ridden in a car. Like, duh. Of course. I glance wearily back towards my apartment.

"Well, let's go up and change. We can go to the beach now, you can go to a hotel later."

I let our hands break away as she follows me down the street and up my apartment stairs. I try to look at everything how Ali would be looking at it, for the first time. My apartment building isn't anything special, even kind of plain and simple. But it's nice by California standards. And it's close to the ocean. So of course it costs an arm and a leg, enough to rent a mansion in Rosewood. But I don't know if she'll necessarily be impressed, and it makes me nervous as I reach for my key, which I've tied into my shoe lace. I open the door, holding it open for her as she rolls her suitcase in.

Her eyes sweep over my apartment, and I get the impression she's heavily masking her reaction.

"Here, the bathroom is over there, you can change first."

 **Alison.**

I go to change in bathroom like Emily directed me. I can see a sort of panic in her eye, she's worried about the state of her apartment. Like, it's not great, but it's nothing that she hadn't already described. Old food, clothes everywhere, there's a bit of a smell. But I honestly don't care, I'm just happy to have a place to put my things down and finally change out of my airport clothes.

It's weird seeing her again. She looks different, darker somehow, but still the same. I guess it hasn't been that long in the grand scheme of things, but it's felt like forever. I feel like I've imagined her a hundred times here and it is both everything I expected and more than I expected at the same time. Just stepping out of the cab onto her street, it almost overwhelmed me. I thought, I've actually done this, I'm actually going to see her. I was nervous, excited, scared.

And, at first, it was nerve-wracking. I thought… I thought she might turn me away. She looked so shocked when she saw me. I got really worried that maybe things were actually broken between us because of what I…we did. It was the first time I experienced that fear, I hadn't realized how hard I'd been holding onto the hope that everything was okay. I knew we hadn't talked, but we had texted. But that look on her face. I wasn't sure what I was going to do if she had told me to go home. And not in the way of, I don't know what I'm going to do if Redbox doesn't have the movie I want. In a way of, I don't know what I'm even going to do with my life, my whole life, if Emily doesn't want to see me.

But it was okay, I guess, with some convincing from me. I told her it would be like a vacation. Just fun. Just us girls. It doesn't have to mean anything that I flew across the country for you. Can't it just be random? That's so Alison.

I blanketed the side of me that knew it wasn't random though. If lying to her meant I could stay, I would do it.

I look in the mirror at myself. Make sure I'm perfect. I remove some of the makeup I'd put on this morning, not wanting it to get smeared by the water, make me look like a raccoon. I put my bathing suit on, it's a bright pink. Nothing fancy though. I'm actually surprised I managed to grab the matching pieces in my hurry this morning. I pull a sheer white cover up over it.

I step out of the bathroom and notice the apartment looks significantly different. Emily must have been quickly cleaning up while I was getting ready. All the food is gone, a bag of trash by the door, and she's lit a vanilla candle. She's also opened all of the windows, and I can feel a cool breeze moving through the room.

It actually makes me smile. I think, it's _cute_. Like something she would've done for me back in high school. But then again, maybe it's something she would've done for anyone. My smile fades. But she glances up at me, while moving dishes into the dish washer and smiles, reassuringly almost. With those brown eyes. The way she still looks at me. It's always surprising. I always expect it to be faded, weathered, but it never is. She's one of the few people I believe actually loves me.

I move over to the window, putting my hands on the frame, and close my eyes, breathing in. It smells so good here.

"Are you ready?" she asks.

I look back and she's changed now, into a white tank covering her suit and board shorts, with light blue flip flops.

"Let's go, I can't wait a second longer," I say back to her.

She smiles, slinging a big beach bag over her back and grabbing two folding chairs in the corner.

As we walk back down the street, I really try to take in all of the sights. I am strongly reminded of Cape May, and a part of me wishes Emily had been there with me for a summer. Looking at her now, it seems wrong that she never had been. She fits in flawlessly, like she belongs here. She's wearing reflective aviator sunglasses, looking so chic and beach ready. You'd never know she was from some small Pennsylvania town.

She keeps a running commentary for me of the different streets and places, where we are in the general LA metroplex. It's comforting. Like a personalized walking tour from Emily Fields. We cross the street, a big one, "Ocean", going over a concrete path that people are biking, roller blading, running, walking on. There's a lot more people than I would've thought. We move into the sand and I bend over to take my flip flops off. It feels so good under my feet.

It's still a long walk to get close to the water. We pick out a spot where no one else is around. She drops our bag and chairs, looking up at me.

"I'll be right back," Emily says, a secret smile playing her lips.

"Where are you going?" I demand.

She laughs and puts one finger to her lips. It's a secret.

Oh, it kills me. I want to know what she's doing so bad. But I let her have her fun. I playfully glare at her as she walks away. I look at her, in those board shorts, glancing down. Her legs, they're so long. Impossibly slender. And her skin, just a shade darker from the sun, beautifully bronzed. I realize what I'm shamelessly doing, and turn away, crossing my arms.

There aren't a lot of people out, but enough not to feel lonely. God, if I lived here, I would be out here every day. Tanning. Reading. Listening to music or maybe just even listening to the waves. I look out over the ocean. Imagine what it would be like to live on a boat, out there, looking back at people like me on the sand. Like I was outside of the world. Untouchable, special, isolated.

I turn back towards our stuff, grabbing the folding chairs. I set them both up, before jumping into mine. I pull off my cover up, happy to finally just be in my bathing suit. I push my sunglasses down and lean back. I close my eyes. I'm lost in the sounds of the water, the wind, the warm sun on my skin, it honestly feels like heaven. It feels like a world away from Rosewood, away from being Alison DiLaurentis.

I don't know how much time passes. But I open my eyes when I hear sand kicking up behind me. I look over my shoulder.

"Oh my God, Emily," I say gasping. "No way."

Emily is grinning at me, from ear to ear, her face red from the exertion of carrying two surf boards.

"That's right," she says. "You're catching a wave today." She drops one of the boards on the ground next to me. She stands the other one up vertically, its tip buried in the sand, while she leans against it. Looking like a literal fucking model.

"Emily," I say, protesting, my voice lower.

It is just like her to do this, to make us do something athletic. I glance down at the board. There is no way I'm going to be able to stand up on that thing. It is three times my size.

"Ali," she says back, determined. "You can't say you've really been to Cali if you haven't been on a surf board in the Pacific."

I want to object, but she does have a weird sort of logic. I look apprehensively back at her.

"You're going to help me?"

"Of course," she says, her hip brushing the board she was leaning on. "I won't leave your side."

"You are literally," I start, following her hips up to her eyes, "the only person I would do this for."

Her face instantly brightens even more. "So you'll do it?"

I nod my head, grumbling.

"Oh, good! I can't wait! Here," she says, reaching into our beach bag. "Put this on."

She hands me a long sleeved shirt. It's bright blue and seems water proof. I'm not really sure what it's for, but I take it, shrugging it over my head.

She lays both boards on the ground. She shows me some of the basics.

"Alright, when you want to stand up, you need to do it like this." She does something that looks like a push up and she's standing, her knees bent. She looked so smooth and fluid.

I try to mimic her.

"Make sure you're farther back on the board. Let's do it again. Do it with me."

I try again, doing my best to imitate what she's doing, but not feeling at all like I look anything like she does.

"One more time, make sure your feet are like this."

I make the adjustment, doing it again. I swear, I already feel tired.

"One more time," she says.

I look back at her, feeling myself becoming stubborn, crossing my arms.

"I feel like a dumb ass, Emily. Can we just go out there?"

She laughs at me and nods. She pops up, filled with energy. I've forgotten what it's like when she's like this. How she used to look when she was swimming. So happy and in her element. There is really no part of me that ever needed to surf in my life, but I want to do it for her because she looks so happy.

"Alright, help me carry these," she says, and she moves to the back to pick up both boards. Catching on, I move to the front, taking the noses of each in my right and left hand, on both sides of my body. We lift, and I'm surprised because they are actually much heavier than I thought. I'm impressed for a moment that she was able to carry both over to our stuff.

We're walking towards the surf when suddenly a small wave crashes and the water slides over my feet.

"Holy fuck, Emily," I say, gasping, almost jumping backwards out of my skin. "It's cold as shit!"

And, I can't believe it, she laughs at me again.

"What did you think, Alison? It's not the Carribbean."

I actually don't even know what I thought. It's not that the water wasn't cold on the East Coast. But, damn, it was so beautiful and warm here, I thought for sure the water would be warmer. The water hits my feet again, and I can only think suddenly of all those people from the movie Titanic with icicles on their faces. I drop the front of the boards, and take a step away from the surf.

"I can't get in that," I say, matter-of-factly, looking at Emily, crossing my arms.

Emily drops the back of the boards too, and they lazily try to find traction on the sand as the water attempts to pull them out. I realize Emily is giving me a mischievous look.

"Yes, you can."

"No," I say to her, becoming concerned at the look she has in her eye. She starts walking towards me purposefully.

"No, Emily. No, don't you dare," I say, turning. But before I can run across the beach, she has me around the waist, behind me, powerfully in her arms. She lifts me cleanly off the sand, and turns us back towards the surf.

"No, damn it, Emily!" I yell, struggling hard, my efforts almost bringing us to the ground as she takes a few uncontrolled steps as I thrash around. But she's stronger than me, and I feel the ice cold water splash around my ankles as she carries me even faster into the surf.

I make one last strangled yell as she brings us crashing down, her back first, me in front of her, into the water.

It feels like I have literally jumped into an ice hole. I bring my head above the water, sputtering, spitting out the salt water, wiping my eyes away. I can feel her arms arounds around my waist still, clutching at my water shirt, or whatever you call it.

"Oh my GOD, Emily," I say in the strongest voice of betrayal I can muster. My teeth instantly start chattering. But all I can hear is her howling in laughter. I can feel her push us off, even farther backwards into the water. It feels like I'm just being dragged away, out to fucking sea.

I struggle to get free, the cold, I feel, is stabbing me right in the blood cells. I try to stand, but she won't let me. She holds onto me tightly from behind, keeping me in the water. Finally, I just stop struggling, livid. I resolve that I need to go to the gym more, that I need to be able to over power her if I want.

My whole body is shaking, goose bumps having erupted violently all over my skin. I involuntarily push against her, eager for any warmth. Realizing that I'm not trying to break free any longer, her grip loosens. She begins to rub my arms under the water. I assume she can feel the goose bumps as my wet shirt floats around my torso and is loose around my arms.

"I'm sorry, Alison," she says, laughing.

"No, you're not," I say, still angry.

"But see? It's not so bad," she says against my ear, and my teeth suddenly stop chattering.

I become aware of our closeness, that my back is against her breasts. That our legs are tangled together, sliding across one another under the water. I feel her hands differently suddenly, one pressing against my arm, the other actually touching the skin of my stomach, under the shirt. A familiar warmth starts to emanate from my center.

I press my hands against her thighs to turn around and look at her. She lets me, moving her hands to my waist, still under the shirt, thumbs against my skin. I assume to make sure I can't get away, but she is giving me that look again. It reminds me of our hug from earlier on the street. Our faces only inches apart. I glance down, watching how the surf shirt clings to her skin, impossibly close, leaving nothing to the imagination. I can see the outline of her bathing suit top. I think about what's under it. I have a powerful urge to wrap my legs around her waist. But I resist. I try to remember why I have never visited before, why I didn't call her 6 months ago. But it's difficult with the warmth spreading from my center, to my legs, to my toes.

"Mermaid," I say, reaching out to touch her face. I couldn't stop myself. I had to do something. Her hair is splayed around her, wet, her cheeks pink from our struggle. The sun glitters off the water, reflecting onto her face, her body.

"My mermaid."

I don't even know who is talking at this point. Some other version of Alison that seems to always rear its head when I'm with Emily. Not smart Alison. Not controlled Alison. Emily closes her eyes, breathing in. I think, this is the perfect time to kiss her. She wants you to kiss her. She wants you.

But as I'm leaning in, I feel a strange pulling in the water, an odd gravity. I feel both of our bodies move backwards. I glance over her shoulder, spotting a wave building up behind us. I smirk.

I wait until the perfect opportunity. Her eyes are still closed. I lean forward, my lips almost brushing against hers, our noses touching, and say, "Don't look now."

Her eyes open, startled, looking deeply within mine, her lips are parted. She is so sexy, I almost feel bad for what I'm about to do. But I do it anyway, I motion with my eyes for her to look behind her. And, as she does, I grab her shoulders, turn her full on, as the wave catches her right in the face while I duck down under it.

The force of the waves knocks us apart, and I struggle to find my feet on the ocean floor.

"Ali!" she says, coming up a few feet away. She looks at me in shock. "I can't believe you just did that."

"Sweet revenge," I say to her, smiling wickedly and winking. Her cheeks look pink again.

She smiles back uncertainly and follows me back to the boards. She was right, I am warmer now.

* * *

I actually did it. I actually surfed. For about 4 seconds. Then I went crashing into the water.

Surfing was honestly exhausting. I do _not_ need to do it again. But the best part was how much Emily touched me, how close she was in the water. I loved her hands on me, her attentive eyes always making sure I was okay. It was hard not to fall right into them. She really did look like a mermaid.

We were done now, and I am watching her clean the boards in the surf. She had taken her surf shirt off and pitched it onto the sand in front of me. She was just in her bathing suit, and I couldn't help but stare at her, captivated. Her two piece was a light yellow, a color I could never pull off, and it made her skin look more caramel. Her hair was starting to dry in the wind, looking tussled. If I had thought she was gorgeous before, that was nothing. I had not seen her on the beach. I'm happy she can't see my eyes under my sunglasses.

She drags the boards back up beside us, falling into her beach chair. She steals a glance at me and smiles lightly. I pull my own surf shirt off, realizing she was watching, but also kind of wanting her to. It was still soaking, the water dripping down on me as I pull it over my head. I threw it by hers.

"Do you remember," I start. "Telling me all about Malibu?"

"Yes," she says, looking away and up into the sun "My roommate used to get so mad when you'd call. She knew I'd be on the phone forever."

"How is Pepperdine now?" I ask, leaning back lazily into my chair. "Tell me another story."

Emily looks uncomfortable for a moment. I know why, after all. I just feel guilty for knowing more about her life than she'd realized she told me. I wanted her to tell me now, so it wasn't a secret between us.

"It's… good," she says plainly.

I have to force myself to keep looking at the ocean, to not bore into her, force the truth out. We're adults now. She can tell me if she wants.

"But, I can't wait to be done. Sometimes I think," she says, with a pause. "That college just isn't for me. Not any more at least."

I look at her, holding back and thinking, I'll have to be satisfied with that.

I close my eyes, drift a little bit in the relaxation of the moment.

"Are you having fun?" she says, bringing me out of a daze.

"Yes, today is perfect so far," I smile at her, thinking it's so sweet that she would ask.

"Well, what would be the next perfect thing we could do?"

My smile widens, mischievously at her.

"Margaritas. On the beach."

 **Emily.**

I felt like we were acting so differently than we usually did. Maybe it was being out of Rosewood. Maybe it was just her being in Califonira. But it was like we were the best form of ourselves. It was so nice to be alone with her. It was so nice to have all of her attention. Is this what our vacations would be like?

Ali was light and present, she was usually distracted and closed off. She always seemed like she had a million things on her mind. Not here. It felt like all she could see was me. I couldn't help but imagine taking her to other places. To Malibu. Up the PCH. I wanted to see her face as she saw everything for the first time. I wanted to hold her hand.

But that wasn't what we should be doing. Right? That wasn't who we were. It was just difficult not seeing it that way while she was here now. It was difficult not acting on it. She'd almost kissed me, when we were in the ocean, before surfing. And I'd wanted her to. It felt so silly afterward. We'd already slept together, I'd already kissed her, but I was still nervous. She still made my breath catch in the back of my throat.

A part of myself had always hoped that after we'd had sex, real sex, that that would be the end of it. I'd hoped that after being with Ali like that, in a way I'd always imagined, I'd no longer feel the way I felt about her. That I would feel like I'd already climbed that mountain, seen its view at the top, and I could move on. But instead, I felt like I had been at the top, climbed down, gone home, and then yearned to go back up it again. Explore every trail, every river, every tree. It was maddening. Like, I had known Ali for years and years and years. How could I feel like there was still more I wanted to know about her, so much more I wanted from her?

Over dinner, I'd watched her eat, and I just couldn't take my eyes off of her. I'd taken her to a Mexican food restaurant just off the beach. We'd spent hours there. We'd easily had a pitcher of margaritas, and we were laughing so much, she was laughing so much. But it wasn't so charged, so tense, like last time. It was that easy comradery where we were just enjoying each other. She asked about places I'd surfed, people I'd met, bartending stories. I noticed she was careful to avoid asking about Paige or Northern California. She didn't ask me about Pepperdine again. I didn't ask her about Rosewood or Charlotte.

We were having such a good time, it was enough to make me wonder why I hadn't been talking to her, why I hadn't called her. A part of me thought it was because it was just too painful, I didn't want to hear the awkward silence over the static of the phone. But, honestly, after coming back from Pennsylvania, everything just seemed to fall by the wayside. It wasn't only Ali. It was all of my friends here, my friends back home, Paige, my mom. I'd started just throwing away mail, rather than read it. The last one I'd read informed me that I'd lost my scholarship. So, I was paying my own way this semester, with my dad's money, but still failing every class. Things just didn't seem to matter any more. My dad had worked so hard, been so good, and one day he was just gone. Why bother working for anything?

Ali noticed when I would get lost in my thoughts like this. She didn't ask though, it was like she knew what I was thinking, always.

"Do you want to go out? There's some cool bars and clubs around here," I ask when we're walking out of the restaurant. She loops her arm into mine.

"No, no, I'm so exhausted," she says back. "I think it's like 10 PM already my time, and I feel like I haven't slept at all."

"Oh yeah," I say, looking at her face. She is starting to look so tired. "That time change is killer."

"Can we just go back to your place? Watch a movie?" she asks again, tilting her head and looking at me. That look is so dangerous. So hard to say no to.

I vaguely remember that she wanted to get a hotel earlier. But I don't want to deal with the inconvenience of taking her to one, getting her all checked in. Also, more secretly, I want her to just be with me.

We walk back to my apartment, my cheeks feeling warm from the margaritas. Ali's arm stays wrapped around mine, sometimes she leans her head against my shoulder. I feel that old excitement. I don't know whether to quell it or enjoy it.

When we get inside, she goes to the bathroom to change again, we're still in our bathing suits. I change quickly into a t-shirt and pajama pants, grabbing my laptop, and settling onto my bed. My back is against the headboard as I glance through movies on Netflix.

She reappears in a blue t-shirt and shorts. She smiles sleepily at me, she's adorable, as she slides into bed, under my comforter, facing me and the laptop. She already looks like she's going to pass out. I'm exhausted, too, from barely sleeping last night, to my run this morning, and then surfing, I just put on something random. "Clueless."

"I love this movie," Ali breathes, her eyes already closed, as the opening song plays.

I look down at her, watching her. It's nice when she's not returning my gaze, with that pointed examination she can have, that x-ray vision. I take in the small details of her face, like I've done a thousand times before.

I want to be closer to her. I slide down the head board, inching ever so closer, until I can feel her arm against mine. That's close enough.

I start to watch the movie, but it's not long before my eyes close, Ali's arm warm on mine.

I'm back in my house, my house in Rosewood, though it looks different. Warped. Not the right colors. I don't notice though. My dad is in the kitchen cooking, I can't see what. I stare at him.

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

"I'm making breakfast, hon," he says easily back, not even turning to look at me.

"Aren't you supposed to be…" but I can't remember what he's supposed to be doing. I'm confused. There's something I should be remembering, just on the tip of my tongue. Something important. I feel uneasy.

"In Texas?" I finish uncertainly. No, that's not it.

"Yeah," he says, handing me a plate of eggs.

"No," I say suddenly. "You're dead."

He finally looks at me, confused. He has the same haircut he had when I was growing up, not like what he looked like when he died.

"No, I'm not. I recovered, don't you remember?"

But I can't remember. Did he? Did he recover? Why does everything feel wrong then? Is he really alive?

I can't bring myself to hug him, though. I feel like it's not really him, that it's someone else. A twin maybe. It's not my dad.

I feel someone moving me, I realize I'm saying something to them. I don't know what. The moving stops.

 **Alison.**

I awoke to the closing credits of the movie. I shut the laptop, moving it off of the bed. Emily's fast asleep beside me, it's pitch black in the apartment without the glow of the computer screen. I move out of bed to get my phone charger, noticing my phone was dead. I felt super groggy, feeling sick almost, unlike myself. When I return, I slip back into bed beside her, but I feel her moving in the bed, flinching.

I glance over, she's still twitching, but she's started talking, too, but I can't tell what she's saying. She definitely seemed agitated.

"Emily," I say.

No response, still kicking and mumbling.

"Emily," I say again.

And, then, she distinctly says back, "You're dead."

It was weird. And even a little creepy. But she's definitely still sleeping, I assure myself. I lean over her, watching her face. I sadly wonder about what she's dreaming. I want her to feel better.

So, I push her shoulders so that she's facing away from me, she's surprisingly compliant. I wrap one arm tightly around her midsection and hold her close, settle my chin on her shoulder.

This seems to help. She stops moving as much, stops talking. I remember back to when we used to snuggle like this, back before I went missing in high school. I've missed it.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the reviews! To the guest reviewer "Emison", I did get your reviews, and I think it's something wonky with the "guest" review thing, or maybe reviews in general. I have to approve them for them to go through but then for some reason they don't show up immediately, even after hours? But they do eventually, and I always get the emails, so I see them! Also, I played with the idea of including Paige at some point, but you'll have to wait and see if I do! Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Alison**.

I'm literally up at the crack of dawn thanks to the time change. Emily is still sleeping, we pulled apart at some point in the night. I can see the hazy blue light coming in through her still open windows. It's so weird that she can leave them open like that in March. It's bitterly cold at home still, heat pumping into every building, almost suffocating. I can see why she'd want to live here. It's a world away from Rosewood.

I watch her sleep for a few minutes, thinking of our day yesterday. Seeing the sun set over the water from our restaurant, open windows all around. Looking at how the dying sunlight hit her face. It had really been perfect. Everything I'd wanted. There's a fear, nagging at the back of my mind, that this memory was something else good, something else I could lose somehow, too. I want to touch her face, sleeping there, looking so serene, but I resist the urge.

Becoming bored, I play on my phone, I absolutely crush one of my high scores, waiting until the sun is acceptably higher in the sky. Finally, I move out of bed, wondering what I can do to further pass the time until Emily is awake.

I open the fridge door, thinking maybe I can make breakfast. There is nothing in there. Literally nothing. An empty wrapper in the corner, a half carton of milk, and several beers. I have no idea where a grocery store would even be. I've only been to two places. I close the fridge, remembering the first place, the taco stand.

I change out of my pajamas, just throwing on some jeans, and I open her door quietly, creeping out, heading downstairs. I round the block and stroll up to "Me Gusta."

"Morning, sunshine! You wake up a little earlier than my friend, eh?"

"Paulo, is it?" I ask, with a slight smirk.

He stretches out his hand. "That's right, and you are? Oh wait, Alison, right?"

It catches me off guard, I'm still paranoid even after all these years, but then I remember that he heard Emily say my name yesterday, with her mouth wide open, practically on the concrete.

"Yes, it's Alison," I say back, shaking his hand. "I'm surprised you remember." Though I'm not.

"Can't forget a pretty girl's name," he says jovially. "What can I do for you?"

I point casually back in the direction of the apartment. "What does she usually order?"

He smiles, lifting his eye brows, leaning slightly through the window. "Ahhh, that depends on how late you got back last night."

I smile, "Nothing too crazy, we came back early and watched a movie."

"Netflix and chill, huh?" he says with a wink.

It kind of unnerves me, like I'm not sure what he's implying. Maybe it's nothing. But, regardless, I have several conflicting thoughts at once. The first of which is a.) does this happen with a lot of girls, b.) does he think I'm like those other girls, and then a third, c.) am I like those other girls? I shake my head, pushing the thoughts away. Of course they're not like me. No one is.

I quickly mask my uncertainty, recognizing this as an opportunity to get more information about Emily. I smile teasingly.

"I take it there's a lot of female foot traffic from her apartment to this taco stand?"

He laughs. "Usually earlier in the morning!"

It's hard not to glare, not to react negatively. But he doesn't see it as he turns into the stand and starts grabbing a few items I can't see, shouting through the window, "She usually just does a couple of bacon breakfast tacos. You want to do that?"

"Sure," I say. "Let's do six. Coffee, too, if you have it."

"Worked up an appetite, huh?" he says again, insinuatingly. Before I can react with annoyance, he talks again. "Of course I have coffee!"

He turns to get to work, and I let the silence linger a little, pretending to read his menu.

"Are you from Pennsylvania, too?" he asks.

"Yes, from Rosewood."

"Rosewood? Oh yeah, that's right. I'd never heard of it before I met Emily."

"That's probably for the best," I say absently.

"I don't know, every girl I've met from there has been beautiful," he says, flirtatiously again. "Sounds like a good place to me!"

I cock my head to the side, playfully skeptical. "You've only met the two of us."

"No, no," he says, his spatula in the air, moving it with his words, "There was that other one, she was the only, ha-what did you say earlier?-'Female foot traffic' I saw for awhile."

My eyes dart away from the menu. There it is. I couldn't look too interested.

"Who? Maybe I know her," I ask.

"I don't know, she never talked much. She just used to get up, hella early, and swim every day out in the ocean. Too cold, if you ask me!"

I think back about Emily pulling me into that water, shivering unconsciously. But it might not totally be that. My blood ran cold thinking this guy, this random guy, thought Paige was in the same category as Emily and I.

"But she stopped coming around. Haven't seen her in maybe a month."

"A month?" I catch myself saying out loud, not as guarded as I would've liked. A month? Did they still talk? Were they still together? Were they still hooking up?

"Maybe longer," he says, seeing my face. I'm not sure if he's trying to be nice, realized his mistake, or really can't remember. I want to grill him, but I've already exposed too much.

I don't say anything else, not trusting myself to provide a calm reaction. A few minutes pass before he leans out of the window, handing me a stack of tacos and two coffees in a tray. I set them aside on the counter, grabbing my wallet.

"Hopefully, you stick around though," he smiles again, motioning to the tacos, "it's good for business."

I sigh, trying not to think about leaving. "Probably not, I have to get back home soon," I say looking for a larger bill.

"Well, are you going to go to a party or anything? It's spring break, there's a lot going on in the city."

I look up at him, it hadn't even occurred to me to do something like that. It might be nice, I would get to see more of the city. Also, it could keep our minds off of… things. I was a little concerned that if I spent any more alone time, in water, with Emily that I was going to jump her.

"Do you know anywhere good?"

* * *

 **Emily.**

When I wake up, it's quiet in the apartment. I smile lightly turning over to face Ali. But she's not there. My eyes snap open as I consciously register her absence, patting her side of the bed, but the sheets feel cool to the touch. There's this panicked, scared part of me that, for a moment, thinks she'd never been there at all. Was it a dream? No, I see her suitcase in the corner. I sigh internally, but am still worried about where she's gone.

I get out of bed to go check the bathroom, even though I see the light is off.

"Ali?" I call out.

Right then, the front door opens, startling me.

Alison's back is against the door, pushing it open, and she's holding a giant bag of tacos and two coffees. I rush over to help her.

"Good morning," she says cheerily.

"You didn't have to do this," I say, taking the bag from her and putting it on the counter. The smell of the tacos is already making my stomach growl.

"I saw the sad state of your refrigerator and knew I had to do something."

"Oh my god, yeah, there's not much in there, is there?" She shook her head.

But I'm too happy to really be ashamed about my lack of groceries as I grab my coffee, inhaling the strong aroma. I've always loved the smell of coffee. I look back at her over the lid, she's watching me, smiling. She looks away quickly, almost like she'd been embarrassed that I'd caught her staring at me. Her own coffee in hand, she moves again to my open window, looking out over the city.

I swear, she didn't used to be this thoughtful. Or did she? She had always been sweet to me, she had always given me special attention. But this nice? It was hard to remember. Was everything good about her always overshadowed by everything bad? By A?

I walk back to my bed, still watching her at the window, and lay down again, propped up against my headboard, with a taco and my coffee. I'm wondering, for the 500 millionth time, what things would've been like for all of us if there'd been no A. Ali would've never left. Sure, things might not have been smooth sailing with us, but maybe we would've figured it out. Maya never would've lived in her house. I might never have been with Paige, Ali would've done her best to ensure that. As I think more about it, I almost don't want to change anything at all. Maybe we would be weaker versions of ourselves, not having gone through all of that. Maybe Ali would've never learned how to be nice like this.

As I take the first bite of my taco, I realize it is one of the best I've ever had in my life.

"Ali, you're the best," I say, sighing contentedly, closing my eyes and washing it down with a sip of coffee.

But when I open them again, I notice she's turned from the window, regarding me with a strange expression. I give her a questioningly look, my mouth full, unable to ask what's wrong. But she swiftly camouflages it with her usual dimpled smile and walks over to the bed. She sits on the edge near me, her left hand close to my leg.

"So, I was thinking…"

"What?" I say, finally swallowing and able to talk.

"What if we went to a spring break party?"

"You want to go out?"

"Why not?" she says with a whimsical smile. "My first visit to LA shouldn't only involve me going face first into the Pacific. I'm sure there are other rites of passage here."

I laugh lightly, thinking of the way she'd stood up on the surf board only to go reeling off the front.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Are there any concerts? Anyone playing?"

"We could go to a club, but the lines are usually horrendous."

"I could get us in anywhere," she says impassively, as if she could get into any venue on Earth. I actually believe she could.

"I'm a bartender, I know a lot of people around town. I could get us in too," I say back, but I notice she's looking over my body, her eyes tracing down from my face to my legs.

"You could," she said softly, lightly brushing a fingernail across my thigh. I have to suppress a shudder, I'm pretty sure I have goosebumps.

"Yeah, let's do it," I say back quickly, trying to cloak my reaction. I have a feeling that Ali sees it anyway. She sees everything.

"Where are we going?" she says, standing somewhat suddenly, and walking away from the bed.

"I have a spot in mind, but… what did you bring to wear?"

She moves over to her suitcase, looking through the contents.

"Nothing worthy of an LA club. Let's go shopping," she says with a light in her eye. Shopping. My equivalent of surfing for Ali. Something I would only do for her. I let loose a loud grumble, rolling my eyes.

She moves back to the bed, taking my hand and pulling me off of the sheets. "Please," she begs.

"Fine," I say, still annoyed, but I can already feel a smile pulling at my lips. It's hard to care with her warm hand in mine, soft finger tips against my wrist. I'm looking into her blue eyes again, they're a shade lighter than the water a half mile away, I notice the flecks of yellow again. She looks down, her long lashes shielding them.

"Also, and I feel dumb for even asking… could we see those Hollywood stars?"

How could I say no.

* * *

"I'm so glad I got this for you. I wish I could dress you every day," Ali said as she zipped my dress up. I could feel her fingers brushing my bare skin on my back and it made my spine tingle. I tried not to move or react.

We were standing in front of my floor length mirror, she moved her head to the side so I could see her in the reflection behind me. When she finished, her hands moved to my shoulders, holding me there.

"What do you think?"

Ali had forced me to try on a dress, lacy, tight, when we were out shopping. It was the kind of thing I would never pick out or even think to wear. But it did look great. The material was intricate and perfectly form fitting. I could see Ali's eyes lingering over me in the mirror.

"I like it," I said finally.

"Of course you do," she said with a smirk, her eyes flickering up to mine in the mirror, her hands moving down to my waist before she moved away. She was teasing me because I had balked at the price, totally unwilling to get it when she'd told me earlier at the store. She'd snuck it into her purchases and showed it to me a few minutes ago after we were already back at my apartment. I refused to put it on, demanding that she return it. But, of course, Ali always got what she wanted.

"I still feel like dresses should never cost this much money. This piece of cloth cost, like, a third of my rent," I said, still resisting.

She was in the bathroom now, I could see her gliding a make up brush over her cheeks. She looked at me in the reflection and said, "You're paying for a moment. Isn't that priceless?"

I cocked my head at her, skeptical. She rolled her eyes, looking back at herself in the mirror.

"It's spring break, we're going out, it's the first time I'll have ever been to California, seen any of these places. And we'll be together," she said stopping, catching my eye again. "This is a special night. And a special night requires a special dress." I could see that mysterious twinkle in her eyes again, before she continued applying her makeup.

I started to say something further, but she lifted up her heel and shut the bathroom door with it. I guess the debate was over. I smiled to myself, moving to check my closet for shoes. No one had ever bought clothes for me before. Ali always had a way of being firsts for me.

I was ready not too long after, using the floor length mirror to finish my own makeup. I tried to go for dark and smoky, to match the outfit. But makeup had never really been my forte. And, after what felt like forever of Alison getting ready, she finally opened the bathroom door.

I was on the edge of the bed, pulling my shoes on, when I looked up. I stopped moving. She looked amazing. She had chosen a strapless red top, tight fitting like a corset, a chunky black necklace, black kitten heels, and tight, black, leather looking pants. Her hair had its usual perfect blonde sheen to it, but it was different, straight and middle parted instead of curly, the thick layers framing her face, falling softly on her shoulders. Her lip gloss was also different, more red than pink this time. The bright reds contrasted sharply with her penetrating blue eyes.

"Good, huh?" she said after a few moments of me staring at her. She walked over to me, looking over my outfit again. I was still sitting on the bed, so she was standing just above me, a wave of her perfume, hair, and general scent washing over me. Her fingers played lightly with a strand of my hair.

"Hm, you just need one more thing."

She turned around, opening her bag. She was bent over, and I couldn't even help it. I stared at her ass in those pants. It was almost harder seeing her in this outfit than in her bathing suit.

"I packed absolutely nothing I needed for this trip," she said, under her breath. Then excitedly, "Oh, yes!"

She stood again, taking my arm, tugging me off of the bed. She turned us towards the full length mirror. She stood behind me, snapping on a red necklace.

"Perfect," she said, moving next to me, wrapping her arm in mine. It was a striking image. We looked like opposites: black and red, red and black. I couldn't take my eyes off of those pants.

"Hearts and spades," she said.

* * *

We were in the cab, almost to the spot I'd had in mind. I was actually really excited to share it with Ali. It was a lavish beach club that had an entire two-floor indoor section with different themes on each floor. There were also two stages, one indoor and one outdoor on the beach.

It was just the type of place I thought she'd love; plenty of places to explore, beautiful, and by the beach.

"Do we need tickets for this place?" she asked, closing her phone.

"No, I think I can just get them to let us in."

"You already run this town, Em," she said smirking.

"After Rosewood, how hard could LA really be?"

I look back at her across the seat. I'm suddenly reminded of the last time we were in the back of a car. I try not to blush, but it's too late as I look away. I could use a drink.

"Oh my God, that line is astronomical," Ali said suddenly. "Is this where we're going?"

The cab pulls to a stop. We hop out, and Ali was totally right. I always hated lines, it was one of the biggest reasons I'd really avoided going out in LA until over the last couple of months. I usually chose places I knew I wouldn't have to wait, I couldn't imagine standing there like that, it always seemed like it would be so degrading.

I grabbed Alison's hand, intertwining our fingers, and pulled her to the front, ignoring all the venomous looks. I felt a flood of relief when I instantly recognized the bouncer, he sometimes worked at my bar.

"Marcus," I said, walking up to him. I leaned upwards and kissed him on the cheek, I felt Ali squeeze my hand briefly.

"Emily," he said back, a smile suddenly appearing on what had been his otherwise very stern and formidable face moments ago. "I don't usually see you out. You look stunning."

"Thanks," I said, still a little self-conscious of the dress. "I have a friend in town," I said, nodding towards Ali. "This is Alison."

"Nice to meet you," he said, taking her free hand and kissing it. She watched him with a polite interest.

"Do you have room for us tonight?" I asked hopefully.

"How could I say no? Look at that dress. You're not messing around," he said with a smile, unhooking the barrier.

I couldn't help but glance back at Ali. She was smirking, looking extremely self-satisfied.

"Step over there, too," he motioned, "and get some bracelets."

"Thank you so much!" I yelled back at him.

I followed where he had pointed, over to a counter where a young, pretty girl stood. I could already hear the music blaring inside. Despite myself, I started to get excited.

"Hi girls," she said. "Hold out your wrists."

I didn't realize I'd still been holding Ali's hand, it had felt so natural. Reluctantly, I dropped it and we lifted our arms over the counter.

As she attached them, she explained, "This bracelet means you get free champagne and vodka drinks until 11. Take advantage!"

"Holy shit," Alison leaned over, whispering to me.

"We're not in Kansas anymore, Todo," I said back, a little distracted by the smell of her breath. It was sweet, like mint.

As we moved through the entrance hallway, into the night club section, she took my hand again, moving closely behind me. It occurred to me that maybe she was nervous, having not been to a place like this, maybe since high school. Like she'd said, she didn't really go out as much any more. And she was in a totally unfamiliar city.

"This'll be fun," I said encouragingly back at her, moving my thumb over the top of her knuckles.

She smiled lightly at me, but there was a tinge to something else to it. I was trying to read her expression as we entered the club, but it was immediately dark and low lit, the music pulsing around us. I looked away, taking in our surroundings.

There were faux fires at the center of the bottle service tables, multiple levels, and well dressed patrons all around. The lights kept shifting between bright neons, from red, to orange, to purple, to green. I always forgot how cool these places could actually be. Like a miniature theme park for adults.

I immediately angled us toward the bar, ordering two vodka cranberry's. I wanted to get the most out of these wristbands while we could. The bartender was delightfully quick, it still wasn't too crowded here yet.

"Your favorite," I said, handing her the drink. She looked puzzled for a moment, before a flash of understanding crossed her face.

"When I can't get tequila," she said with another Ali smile. A lock of her hair had curled towards her lips as she took a sip, looking at me. It was almost impossible not to stare at her mouth.

"Come on, I want to show you the outside," I said, trying to break the spell. The neon lights shifted to red, dancing over her face.

"Sure," she said. I had a feeling she knew what I was doing.

We maneuvered through the crowd to three large, floor to ceiling doors to that led outside. There were huge steps that led down the to the beach bar section, where you could see the moon sitting out over the water. It looked huge and white and closer than usual.

"It's beautiful," Ali breathed, as we stood at the top of the steps.

We moved downwards, closer to the stage, where one of the bands had started. They were more indie rock, but they had a girl lead singer, which I'd always liked. We watched them for a moment, I could see Ali moving slightly to the music.

"If we made a band, Ali, what instrument would you play?"

She thoughtfully considered my question.

"I think I'd want to be the lead singer."

I laughed. "Of course, you would, unsurprising," but I added. "But I do love female lead singers."

She smiled at me. "Of course you would, unsurprising," she said, copying my tone.

"And you?" she asked after a moment.

"I've always wished I could be a drummer."

"Well, they are the fittest. The hottest. And you have the good rhythm for it," she said. Was everything she was saying flirtatious tonight?

As she finished the sentence, though, a guy passed us, making no effort to conceal brazenly checking us out. He smiled, but Ali looked at him like he was road kill. His smile faltered and he continued on.

"I feel like everyone's looking at you," she observed with an unreadable expression.

"Well, you can thank your dress," I said mockingly, leaning my back against the bar. "If you'd let me wear flannel, this wouldn't be happening."

Her eyes raked over me, reminding me for a moment of the guy, tilting her head to the side.

"It's worth it. I get to look at you too," she said taking another drink, continuing to look at me darkly. I had a memory of the way she'd looked at me during sex that last time, and felt like I knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Ready for another?" I said, taking her empty glass, not quite sure how to respond.

She nodded wordlessly, moving closer to stand behind me, while I pushed my hands over the bar edge, waiting to get the bartender's attention. When he looked over a few moments later, I realized I actually knew the guy.

"Mike!" I leaned over to give him a half hug. "You have to work here tonight?"

"Yeah," he shouted over the music. "What're you doing here?"

"Friend in town, taking her out," I said motioning behind me to Ali, I turned to look at her, but she just lifted her eye brows at the guy, exceedingly uninterested. He gave her a polite smile, but seemed to get the message. He moved his attention back to me.

"Well, you look fantastic," he said with a smile. "Two vodka cranberries?" he asked looking at our empty drinks.

"Yep."

I felt Ali turn around, as if done with the conversation. Oddly, I could still feel her there, as she maintained contact between the back of her legs and mine.

As he made the drinks, he asked, "Got bracelets, huh? You two are going to have a crazy night!"

"Yeah, this seems like the place to be. Do you think it will get packed?"

"Oh yeah! We've got some cool things planned for the dance floor inside."

As he said it, I could feel Ali dancing slightly behind me, the material of her pants, sliding over my skin. It was tantalizing. Was she doing this on purpose? Knowing her…

"Thanks," I said taking the drinks.

"We should meet up later, if your friend wants to. There's some other stuff going on tonight."

"M-m-maybe," I said back. Ali had started moving even more.

"My friend is house watching one of those 13 million dollar houses up in the hills. Could be fun?"

I barely heard him. She was driving me crazy. She had her ass pressed against mine, her back up against mine, and she was dancing so sensually, I could barely stand it. When she slid the her hands over the back of my arms, I almost dropped our drinks.

"We'll meet up later," I said hastily ending the conversation, unable to handle Ali's touch one more moment.

"Hey," I said, turning to her, handing her the drink. She glanced at me, a smile at the corner of her mouth. "Let's go watch the band inside."

She nodded, and I led the way back inside, back up the stairs and through the giant doors. She followed me through the throngs of people, over towards the stage. There was a crowd already dancing and moving to the music, we stood near the back. She moved in front of me, craning her head to try to get a better look at the stage.

I leaned in behind her, whispering, "Move us closer."

Alison, for obvious reasons, had always been the one at concerts that could muscle through a crowd to get us all closest to the stage. Taking my hand without hesitation, she unapologetically elbowed her way through the crowd. I always felt so bad for making people move, turned my eyes away at their incensed looks. None of this ever seemed to phase Ali, and it still didn't seem to now.

When we were about three rows back from the front, it seemed like that would be as close as we could get. We were shoulder to shoulder with the wall of people around us. To save space, I slipped my arms around her waist, interconnecting my fingers together at her stomach. She leaned back into me, dancing again, moving seductively, as I realized my mistake. But with how closely packed together we were, it would be impossible to escape now. Not that my weakening willpower would've let me.

* * *

 **Alison.**

The band inside was more of an electronica, mash up band. I had heard of them, maybe even on the radio, but never listened to a lot of their music. But here in the crowd with Emily, they were entrancing. Hypnotic.

I could feel Emily close behind me. I let my hands fall to her thighs, my palms pressed flat against them, happy that we were so close to the people around us that no one could see what I was doing. I let my fingers move over the lacy fabric of her dress, finding the hem line and dragging one nail just under it. Her grip around me tightened.

I loved the dress. It was like owning a part of her. A claim. It reminded me of something I might've done for a guy, like buying ties or a shirt, but I'd never cared that much. Or gotten that far. Hard to say which. But this was more with Emily. I liked knowing it was something she would've never worn, I liked bringing out the parts of her figure that I wanted to see the most. Her ass looked amazing in it. And I liked the idea that every time she wore it in the future, she would think of me.

As I played teasingly with the bottom of her dress, I tried to remember what I had promised myself that I would or wouldn't do. It didn't seem so clear right now. What was right? What was wrong? I knew I was being a hard core flirt tonight, but I couldn't stop myself. And I couldn't even blame the alcohol this time. I was simple, really. I knew what I wanted. But I just didn't know what it would mean.

"Ali," she spoke into my ear, I turned my head into her so that I could hear her over the music. She was so close, I could feel her lips. "Are these pants leather?"

Her arms were around my waist and I could feel her fingers moving over the top of the pants, over the top of my thighs, just below my red top. I could tell she loved them from the moment she saw me in them. And I loved that she loved them.

I nodded against her. I angled my head slightly up, causing her lips to come into contact with my neck just below my ear as I moved. I heard, and felt, her breathe in sharply.

"Do you like them?"

She didn't answer as we continued to dance to the music. Her hands moved to sit at the sides of my waist and I felt her fingers press under the edge of my top, tightly into my skin as I moved the hem of her dress up slightly behind me. I brushed my fingers across the skin of her inner thigh. I felt like I was in a trance with the music. I stopped caring about what I should or shouldn't do.

I pressed hard back against her as I grabbed her leg full on. Her fingers drifted more fully under my shirt and I felt them move just under the rim of my pants. It made focusing on what I was doing difficult. I unintentionally lifted my neck up, turning my head, so that my ear was brushing her mouth again. When I felt her breath coming hot and quickly, I wasn't sure I could keep it together.

It had been fun teasing her outside, but this was different. It reminded me of six months ago, the way I had felt. And I wanted that feeling back.

I took her hands out from under my shirt, under my pants, and moved us forcefully through the crowd. People were eager to take our place. As we neared the edge, I scanned the wall, looking for something, anything. I saw a curtain, hopefully hiding an exit of some sort.

I threw it open with my free hand, but it looked like a wait station that wasn't being used. A door on the wall probably led to a kitchen or something. It was dark, almost black, but I could still hear the music beating, the bass low and pulsating.

"Ali, where are we goi-?"

I stopped her with a hand over her mouth, ripping the curtain back into place behind her. I pushed her back against the wall, grabbing her face, my fingers in her cheeks. Not being able to curb the temptation any longer, I kissed her fiercely. She responded eagerly, one of her hands moving up my neck, into my hair, the other around to the back of my thigh, cupping my ass. It made me press myself against her harder, I wanted every square inch of us touching.

The kiss deepened, both of us moving in sync, almost to the rhythm of the beat, completely lost. I felt her tongue in my mouth and I almost made a sound. A loud one. Each hard breath she took, I take into my mouth, sliding my lips across, into, over hers. I'm feverishly, shamelessly groping every part of her body. I loved this dress, but I also wanted it off.

I pushed up the hem line, so that I could part her legs, moving myself imbetween them. I could pretend that this wasn't exactly why I'd bought the dress. But it was. Sure, it looked good. But it also afforded easy access. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew I did not want her in jeans tonight.

"Ali," she breathed, more of moan, as I kissed her neck hard. God, I loved when she said my name. But then she said, "Not here."

What?

"No?" I asked back daringly, pulling away from her. I left my hips pressed against her, though, I couldn't bring myself to move them if God himself had commanded. It would've been like tearing my own skin away.

She stared back at me, her eyes dark. She didn't respond.

I kissed her once, slowly, slipping my tongue over hers before taking her bottom lip between my teeth, holding it there for a moment, and releasing it.

"Tell me to stop," I said, tauntingly, as I let my hand finally move up her inner thigh, under her dress, slowly, agonizingly, as I kept eye contact with her.

I watched her eyes close for a moment, and she moved her arm away from my neck, back up into my hair. I felt her pull slightly at it, as she bit her lip. I pressed my fingers over the center on her underwear, which was hot, damp.

I leaned in, a breath away from her ear, "You're so wet," I said as I moved the fabric aside with my thumb, allowing my fingers to slip underneath.

As I touched her, her hand fully raked into my hair, pulling me back into a hard kiss. I could feel her moan into my mouth, as I rolled over her clit, still one hottest things to have ever happened to me. I loved hearing the sound. I loved tasting and feeling it.

I moved my fingers over her, up and down, circles, all of it. She tore away from my mouth, our foreheads lingering against each other, "Fuck, Ali." I loved the look of ecstacy on her face. I loved keeping her pinned there on the wall.

"Tell me to stop," I said again, as her other hand tightly gripped my upper arm. I moved my fingers down, taunting her entry, moving circles around it.

"No," she said, as if finally giving in to something. "Just fuck me."

I almost made her want to repeat it. But that would probably be rude. Also, I was too happy to oblige. I slipped my fingers inside of her, and I was so into it, too into it, I had to really force myself to focus, to move with a steady rhythm and pressure. She kissed me again, biting my lip, her tongue hard in my mouth. She moved roughly into me, onto my hand, but I pushed roughly back, hearing the thump of her back hitting the wall. I moved my free hand up over her breasts, pressing to feel her nipples through it, wanting to kiss them. I go faster, harder.

"Fuck," she said again, and I could feel her legs start shaking. I lifted one up, holding it. Those beautiful, gorgeous legs. It allowed me to get closer to her. I could feel the beat of the music through the wall, like we were inside the song, as I curled my fingers. I felt her seize suddenly, and I knew she was close. I brought my lips back to hers as she began to shudder, orgasming.

I held her as she came down from it, her eyes still closed. I let her leg drop back to the floor as I removed my fingers. I pulled her dress back down, while she leaned against the wall. I was still pressed against her though, I couldn't leave her. She was breathing hard, struggling to catch her breath. I could see a light sheen of sweat on her skin.

"Oh my God, Alison," she said, taking her hand out of my hair, covering her face. "Why do you do this to me?"

"Do what?" I asked innocently.

"I have never done _that_ in public," she answered, looking at me with those deep chocolate brown eyes.

"You can't blame me," I said, running my hand across her collar bone, up her neck, and onto her cheek. "It's the dress."


	8. Chapter 8

**Emily.**

My eyes fluttered open in the mid morning light. I could smell her, it was the first thing I became aware of, even before I was consciously awake, still dreaming of cities, piers, boats. She smelled sweet, like an aroma of flowers, but with faint traces of vanilla.

I tried not to move too much, not wanting to disturb her. I thought back to the last time I had been here, naked behind Alison, also naked, in bed. Back to Rosewood. 6 months ago. I had been afraid that things would be a disaster in the morning, afraid to touch her, act on my desires. But it seemed different now. Ali had not only initiated last night, she was had been all too happy to receive. After the club, after _that_ , we'd gone back to partying, enjoying each other. We got pretty drunk. Came home late. We'd had sex again. She didn't seem like the same Alison I'd known, she'd seemed more open here, more vulnerable. I really felt like she wanted to be with me. _Wanted_ me. I thought back to her face, flushed, the sound of her voice reverberating my name in my apartment, the way the sheets had looked bunched behind her head, that golden hair. To her in the club, telling me to tell her to stop. How could I? It was already affecting me again, just the mere thought of it, heat coursing through my body, my hands clenching.

I closed my eyes, remembering her lips pressed hard against mine, those ocean blues dilated black. I had to touch her.

I slid closer to her, under the sheets, and began moving my hands over her bare back. She was so soft. I wanted to learn every angle, every corner, every crevice. I pulled her still sleeping body into me, placing her head over my arm, the other free to roam from her neck to her tail bone. My face fit perfectly in the crook of her neck, my lips just by her ear. I inhaled deeply.

At the movement, her breathing changed, as if she might be waking up. I paused momentarily, thinking maybe she might say something, move, or stop me. But she didn't. So, I resumed with long, gliding scratches down her spine, across the muscles of her back, light at first. Then alternated with my palm, harder, around her sides, up over her shoulders, where I let my fingers knead slightly. I then plunged down, over her waist, across her upper thigh, brushing across her inner thigh, over her ass. I wanted to remember exactly where everything was, how everything felt.

After a few minutes of this, I felt her move back against me, into my touch, pressing her backside firmly against my lower stomach. She made a higher noise, like a purr. Or a hum. She was awake. She slowly dragged her fingernails down and up my arm, as I continued to caress her sides, her hips, her back. The arm under her head, I curled it backwards, so that my finger tips moved through her hair, forcing her neck up and back, clearing the path for me to slide my tongue across her skin, kissing her lasciviously at the area just above her collar bone.

"Mmmm," she moaned, close mouthed, her hand sliding over my arm to grip the back of my thigh, pushing me harder into her. I glided my hand over the rounded edge of her sides, over the bumps of her ribs, and coasted over her breasts. I teased her there, as I felt her grip tighten around my thigh. Barely touching her.

"Emily," she exhaled in a breath, more like a whisper. It was hard to tell if it was a demand or a plea.

I could feel her nipples harden as I continued to ghost over them, begging me to touch them. Her other hand snaked up above the one that I had in her hair, sliding over the back of mine and gripping it there. I loved being behind her like this. I could touch everything. It reminded me of when I'd been dancing with her at the club. I had free range. I felt like she was under my control for once. I hooked my ankle over hers, pulling her legs apart, intertwining them with mine.

I kept kissing her neck, flipping between pressing hard with my lips and then my tongue. I began to move my thumb harder over one her nipples, making sure she could feel everything. She made more sounds of encouragement, while still moving rhythmically against me.

I drove my hand downward, over her stomach, pressing my fingers into the muscles, feeling their contractions and extensions. I could feel her tighten in anticipation as I fluttered my fingers just above her core. I kissed along her jaw, tightening my grip in her hair, her grasp of my hand mirroring the grip, her fingers sliding between the curves of my knuckles.

After what I felt was an acceptable amount of teasing for what she'd done to me last night, in public, I finally let my finger slide all the way up and down her center.

She took in a sharp breath, her mouth falling open, her eyes closed. I wanted badly to move above her, take her lips in mine, move my tongue over hers. But I stayed put. I found her clit instead, moving tantalizingly slow, no pressure. I knew it would drive her crazy. I leaned in close to her ear, kissing, nipping her ear lobe.

"Show me," I said vaguely, purposely waiting for her to ask what I meant, still dancing lightly across her sex.

I could see her bite her lip, edging her hips closer to my hand, her breathing coming harder out of her nose.

"Show you what?" she said, she sounded so irresistible.

"How you like to be touched."

She took a deep breath, processing my request. She seemed hesitant, she'd stopped moving, and I could see her eyes opening. But then she took her lip in her teeth again, moved her hand away from my ass, she'd been gripping me hard there as I'd teased her, and slid it down my forearm. I allowed her fingers to slip up to mine, I pressed mine over hers as she started touching herself.

"Em, I-I-ahh," she started, but couldn't finish, too breathless as we moved together. I could hear her breaths coming quick, in pants. I loved it. She let loose a louder, more uncontrolled moan as manipulated her harder, hitting everywhere in wide circles. That sound, god, it was too much. I kissed her neck frenziedly, taking her skin between my teeth.

I moved on top of her, sliding my arm out from under her, still under the sheet, and positioned myself between her legs. I moved her hand away, replacing it fully with mine, as I dipped my fingers lower, god, she was so wet, and moved them inside of her. I kissed her roughly as she wrapped her legs around my waist. She arched her back against the bed at each thrust, no longer holding back, her moans coming out unchecked, hot into my mouth. Her fingers wrapped around my neck, pressing hard, holding me in our breathless, heated, mind boggling kiss, her tongue dominating mine.

I could feel her clinch around my fingers, her legs tighten around my waist. I made sure my thumb was connecting with her clit, pressing across it, up it, down it.

"God-I'm-", Ali said breaking our kiss, her hands moving off of my neck, her finger nails digging into my back. "Don't stop."

I watched her, she was still so captivating, alluring, even at her most vulnerable. I moved down, taking one breast in my mouth, flicking my tongue across her nipple.

"Oh, fuck," she said, and I felt her start to orgasm, her whole body tense and somehow letting go at the same time.

With the morning light, I got to see everything, no detail lost to the darkness, as her face, lips, cheeks, eyes, all reacted. I moved to kiss the corner of her mouth as she recovered, her nails still pressing hard into my back.

* * *

 **Alison.**

I'd been dreaming about her, literally kissing her, when she'd woken me like that. It seemed so surreal at first, I wasn't even sure it was really happening, her touching me everywhere, like a fantasy massage. And then that developing into morning sex. It was intense to say the least.

This would make three times, maybe four if I counted high school. Being with Emily, this was becoming habit forming. She moved back behind me, still so brazenly sexual, her hands clutching at my lower hips, pulling them to fit into hers, a wordless statement of possession. I wondered if we would ever be able to go back to sharing a bed together and have it not be like this. I didn't know if I wanted to.

"When are you leaving?" she said, pulling a long strand of my hair away from my face. I was still struggling with my breath, my entire body still tingling.

"Uhm," I said, trying to remember the English language. "I actually only bought a one way ticket."

Shit. I had planned on lying about that, but in the moment it was hard to organize my thoughts to execute even that simple lie.

"Really?" she said, her voice soft in my ear.

"Yeah," I answered, resigned to having to explain it. "I really wasn't sure what I was walking into. If you'd want me to turn right around. Or stay." I was happy she couldn't see my face, I'm not sure if I would've admitted I was afraid of her rejecting me.

I felt her arms tighten around me, pulling me nearer. I could feel the need, the desperation for closeness. I leaned in, I could feel her heart beating.

"Stay," she said simply, kissing my neck again. She was holding me so snugly, it felt more like a declarative sentence, or a demand, since there was no way I could've moved if I'd wanted. Not that I did.

With the way she was holding me, and the way I liked it, I'd forgotten what it was like to be someone's. Or maybe I'd never known. Someone had always wanted me, but I'd never wanted them. If anything, I had wanted something from them, like a payment taken. Lie for me, give that to me, do something for me. But I'd never wanted who they were, never cared about their smiles, their body, their mannerisms, and certainly never wanted them to care about mine. If anything, people had always felt too close for comfort, invasive, overly curious. Other than Emily.

I moved my hand over her arm around my waist, thinking that she still felt too far away. I wanted her closer, impossibly closer. I wanted her to be inside, outside, all over. I wanted to be... one with her. I didn't know how else to even think about it.

Was this a new feeling? Was it was only a product of what had happened over the last few days, and the last time I'd seen her? I wanted to believe that. If it was new, I could control it. Tame it. Quell it. But a part of me knew it wasn't. This feeling was deep and thickly rooted. This feeling had survived storms and fires and droughts. I'd _always_ wanted to possess Emily and for her to possess me. Fully.

Having regained more of my composure, I turned in her arms to face her. I cupped both her cheeks in my hands and pulled her into a kiss, our mouths perfectly formed together, mine taking her top lip, hers taking my bottom. It felt so intimate, here in her bed, in the quiet morning, somehow more so than what she'd been doing to me minutes before.

She pulled away as I moved my tongue against her lip, requesting entry.

"God, you're so good at that," she said, her nose still grazing mine.

"Good at what?" I asked, closing the gap again, enticing my lips across hers and moving my tongue back into her mouth.

But she pulled away again.

"That," she said, but she kept her eyes away from mine. I watched her closely.

"I have a... weird question," she started again slowly.

"What is it?" I said, removing my hands, a little apprehensive about what she was preparing to ask.

"Have you... done that before?"

I didn't mean to, but I smiled at her. _Oh, that's what it is,_ I thought.

"Done what? Kissed someone?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"No..." she said, slightly flustered, looking embarrassed. "Kissed a-kissed a..."

"A girl?" I finished for her, my smile more of a smirk now.

She looked back up at me. She looked so cute. Adorable, even.

I don't know why, but I felt like teasing her. I leaned forward, pressing our naked chests together, pushing my arm up under hers, around her back.

"Have I ever fucked a girl?" I whispered seductively as I nipped at her neck.

I felt and heard her gulp, felt her hand move over my ass, palming it, like it had a mind of its own. Like she couldn't resist if she tried.

"No, Emily," I said pulling back, watching her face.

"Really?" she asked, looking surprised.

"No," I answered again.

Her deep brown eyes gazed back at me, still puzzled.

"I'm that good, huh?" I gloated teasingly, pressing my fingers up her scalp, from her back. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation.

But then she opened them again, composing herself.

"Well," she said, rolling us over, her beautiful black hair falling over one shoulder. "You're a natural... but..."

"But what?" I said, mock offended.

"You still have a few things to learn."

I rolled my eyes and played with a strand of her loose hair.

"Well, I hope I can find a good teacher," I said in a sultry tone, glancing back up at her. Her eyes were already dark, her lips parted.

"Mrs. DiLaurentis," she said slowly, her tongue dripping over every syllable. I closed my eyes as she brushed her lips over my ear, over my neck, and it was _so_ sexy. She moved against me, our sexes touching, and I couldn't help moving back against her, not even of my own volition. I couldn't believe this was about to get started again. Would I ever stop wanting to fuck her?

My hands moved away from her hair, coasting over her thighs towards her center, when a loud buzz emitted suddenly from the bedside table. I looked over, seeing my phone's screen lit up. I was so annoyed, I almost hurled it across the room. But before I could, I saw the Caller ID. I glanced up at Emily, and she'd seen it too. Wellby Psychiatric.

I felt my face pull into a conflicted frown.

"You haven't talked to her since you got here," she said. "You can take it if you want to."

Emily tried to maintain an understanding expression, but I could see something else under it. I knew she hadn't forgiven Charlotte, I never expected her to. But I nodded, slipping out from under her.

I threw on a t-shirt and sleep shorts that I found on the floor, not totally sure if they were mine or hers. We'd changed like we were going to have a nice platonic sleep last night, an idea which was short-lived. I quickly tried to answer the phone before it went to voicemail.

"Hey," I answered, moving across the apartment, opening the door. Throwing an apologetic glance at Emily, I walked into the hallway barefoot, I figured she wouldn't want to hear our conversation. I also wasn't totally sure what kind of mood Charlotte would be in.

"Alison," Charlotte said, and I could already hear the irritation in her voice. "Where have you been?"

I didn't answer immediately. I couldn't. I wasn't sure how I would rationalize what I was doing, least of all to Charlotte. She would know the truth. She always had.

"Hello? Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"I said, where are you? Are you not in Rosewood? I've called your house, too, and there's been no answer."

I took a deep breath.

"I'm in California."

"California? What? Why? What's in-," but I heard her break off. "Ohhh, needed a taste of an Americano, hm?"

This irritated me. I wanted to fiercely deny it, but I couldn't bring myself to lie. Not that it mattered, I knew it wouldn't convince her.

"It'll only be a few more days."

"Well, I need you here, Alison."

I didn't answer, and there was a long pause. Hadn't I been there enough? Wasn't I _always_ there? I take one break for myself, and this is unacceptable

"I get it," she said, suddenly sounding angry. "You're with Emily, and I'm sure you're fuc-"

"Don't," I said, interrupting her quickly. "It's not like that."

But wasn't it?

"You don't need to lie to me, Ali, I know you," she replied evenly with a lingering pause. "And I know her."

I closed my eyes in what felt like frustration and maybe even embarrassment. How could Charlotte possibly understand something I myself couldn't even understand?

"Her dad just died," I said defensively.

"That was six months ago."

I'm momentarily stunned by her memory, at her knowledge of Rosewood even inside that place.

"She needs me."

"I need you," Charlotte snapped back. "And who is more important? Emily hasn't seemed like she's needed you at all. When was the last time you even talked to her? And now you've up and flown to California?"

I badly wanted to say something mean. I wanted to say that she'd live without me for a few days on her own, that the sun would still rise in Rosewood. But I tried to remind myself that Charlotte was unwell. And isolated. And it had been a rough patch. She could be unyielding, rude, and stubborn. But she was my sister, the only family I had left. We needed each other.

As I tried to craft something that would appease her, I saw a shadow of someone climbing up the stairs down the hallway. I tried to ignore it.

"Look, I know this isn't easy for either of us," I started, attempting to keep my voice lower, hoping the stranger would pass by quickly. But, almost in slow motion, I saw the profile, the brown hair, the athletic build. I froze mid sentence.

Having heard my voice echo down the corridor, I saw Paige's eyes travel up the hallway, landing on me standing there, in Emily's t-shirt.

Fuck.

Her eyes locked with mine as she came to a halt at the top of the stairs. It was a long, tense moment. Her look of confusion, shock, and surprise slowly transformed into a look that could kill. I could still hear Charlotte's static-y voice through the phone.

"Hello, Ali? Ali?" it said, but it felt like I was a thousand feet underwater.

Paige finally moved, quickly closing the space between us. I suddenly thought of what Emily looked like inside the apartment. In bed. Naked. I took a few backwards, sideways steps, blocking the door. My brain scrambled for a plan.

"Alison?" Charlotte asked again as Paige walked up to me, her face tight, her mouth in a hard line.

I was still too stunned to say anything. Her eyes flickered to my phone, I could tell she heard the voice on the other end of the line.

"Let me guess, A?" she said snarkily.

"Holy shit, is that fucking Pig-" I pressed the phone hard to my ear, so that Paige couldn't hear. "-skin? You're so fucked, Alison!"

I pulled it back from my ear again and quickly slid the phone shut, hanging up.

"How's the rehab?" she continued with a cloying, patronizing edge to her voice. "Still as crazy as ever, I'm guessing?"

This made me bristle, despite what a bitch Charlotte had just been to me.

"Her name is Charlotte."

"Funny, that's never what she called herself," Paige retorted.

"What are you doing here?" I said aggressively, crossing my arms over my chest because, god damn it, I wasn't wearing a bra.

"What am _I_ doing here?" she said, incensed, her voice raising several octaves. "What the _hell_ are _you_ doing here?"

"Visiting," I said easily return.

She laughed suddenly, in a disturbing way. It was a little scary.

"Oh my God, if someone had told me that Alison DiLaurentis would be standing in front of my girlfriend's door today—"

"Girlfriend?" I interrupted caustically, but I felt the door fly open behind me.

I glanced back, and Emily was standing there looking highly alarmed but clothed, thankfully. Or maybe I wish she'd been naked, just so Paige could see it.

"Paige," was all she managed to say. Her eyes swept over how I was blocking the door's threshold, immediately registering the thick and stifling air of hostility.

"What are you—what are you doing here?" she asked shakily.

I almost laughed. Exactly, right? But Paige saw the smile curl at the edges of my mouth, and I actually thought she might hit me.

"Alison's 'visiting', Emily?" she directed harshly at Emily instead. "Really? You've fallen that far?"

"Excuse me?" I said with offense.

"What? No," Emily cut in sternly, coming into the hallway and shutting the door. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I certainly don't want to interrupt," Paige spat back, beginning to turn away.

 _You are_ , I thought.

"You're not interrupting anything," Emily replied carefully. I shot a fiery glance at her.

"Okay, cool," Paige said, crossing her arms. "Then why don't you invite me inside?"

Emily didn't move, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"That's what I thought."

"That's not—look, Alison, could you give us a second?"

I looked at her, scandalized. Furious. But her eyes were pleading and desperate, so I threw one last nasty look at Paige and slammed the door on my way back inside.

I paced angrily angrily in her kitchen, trying not to listen to their conversation, but I could still catch snippets.

"—didn't you call—"

"—shouldn't need—when I see you—"

"— _her—"_

I took even harder steps, glaring at the door like it had deeply wronged me.

I _hated_ that Paige McCullers could still make me feel this way. I hadn't felt this angry, this _jealous_ , since high school. Since Paige had tried to turned me into the police. Since Emily had gotten back together with her, when they'd accused me of Mona's murder. I'd forgotten what this felt like, and I hated it.

Over the years, Paige had become just another traumatic memory that I'd repressed. She existed peripherally in my mind, like some kind of fictional character whose story I'd once been invested in; irrelevant now, not real, fleeting, someone I no longer knew. But it was a reality check seeing her again in person, just waltzing up to Emily's apartment. She suddenly seemed very real, very relevant.

Their conversation pitched in volume, causing me to glare at the door again.

"—why can't I—"

"—just listen—"

"—this isn't even who you are—"

The way they argued, it reminded me of a couple. People who _really_ knew each other. People who knew how to make you laugh and make you cry. They knew your buttons. It made me wonder how many meals they'd shared, how many stories, how many dreams, snuggled up close under the sheets in bed. At one point, they probably both thought they'd _always_ be together. And maybe they would. What if this was just a pit stop along that journey for Emily? What if I was just her rebound mistake?

The thought of that made me want to scream. Within the last hour, I'd been thinking about how I wanted Emily, really wanted her, in a way I'd never wanted anyone. And she wanted someone else.

I couldn't take it any longer. I began packing my bags. I threw off Emily's shirt I'd been wearing, hurled it across the room. I was angry. I felt stupid for having ever come here at all.

I changed into something of my own, grabbing all of my stuff in her bathroom. I was rolling my bag out into the kitchen when I heard the door open again.

Emily reentered the apartment, looking exhausted. But then she looked surprised, her eyes quickly darting to my bag. I felt satisfied about that. The worst part of me wanted her to feel as terrible as I did.

"What?" she said, confused and hurt. "Where are you going?"

"Look, I can tell when I'm not wanted," I said hotly, rolling my bag past her.

"What?" she said again, turning to follow me. "Of course, I want you here—"

"Your girlfriend, Emily?!" I said stopping, clutching my bag hard, practically shouting.

"She's not!" Emily fired back defensively.

"Why did she call herself that, then?"

"I don't know," she plead. "We broke up _months_ ago, you remember, before my dad's funeral."

"So, she hasn't been here to visit since?" I needled with perseverance. "You're not still seeing her?"

But I wish I hadn't been so insistent when Emily looked uncomfortable, proving my suspicions. I felt my face fall. It was one thing to know something, it was another to have it confirmed.

"She needed to drop things off," she said quietly, lying through omission. It made me itch with anger. Emily couldn't lie to _me_.

"You don't drive eight hours to drop something off. She could've mailed it," I spat back.

She didn't have a response for that. I shook my head, closing my eyes. I gripped my suit case pull bar again and continued towards the door.

"Fine, run Ali," I heard a voice say behind me. But surely that wasn't Emily fucking Fields.

I stopped in my tracks, turning to her, incredulous.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me," she said, squaring her shoulders. "It's what you're best at."

Though I did, in fact, hear her, it felt impossible that she had said that to me. My mouth gaped open. It felt like she'd just slapped me in the face.

"Don't even _act_ like you're not trying to sabotage this," she continued, pointing to the air between us, "because you're afraid of it."

I blinked at her, my mouth still open. I closed it, processing her words, feeling the fury burn in my veins.

"And what am I supposed to do instead?" I snapped, allowing the fury to boil over. I knew Bitchy Ali was coming out, but I couldn't stop it.

"What am I supposed to do with _this_?" I said, copying her motion, indicating the invisible tether between us.

"You tell me," she bit back. "I didn't initiate—"

"YOU called me to come here," I yelled, interrupting her, not even wanting to know how that sentence was going to end.

"And you certainly did, didn't you?"

I physically withdrew from her, leaning away in disbelief, like she had actually struck me this time. What was she trying to imply? That I came running the second she called? Was she mocking my feelings?

"What do you want from me, Emily?" I started to rage back at her. "You want me to move here? I can't. You want to do long distance? Well, that won't work. And, even if I could," I said taking a step towards her threateningly. "What would I even be getting out of the bargain? This?" I asked, gesturing around at the apartment.

Her brows furrowed deeply, but I wasn't done.

"You say it's over, but Paige is still crawling around here. I know you're failing your classes. And, Jesus Christ, Emily, you're a bartender?" I could hear myself. I could hear how mean and superior it sounded. But I was angry. "Your life is a mess."

"My life?" she said in a high pitch. "My life is a mess?"

An expression crossed Emily's face that I hadn't seen maybe even ever. Wrath? Hate?

"Alison DiLaurentis is a school teacher at Rosewood High," she said spitting with disdain. "Vivian Darkbloom is a fucking soccer mom."

It was so incensing to hear her phrase it like that, I couldn't even look at her.

"And let's not even mention," she added slowly, my eyes snapping back up to hers. "A baby sitter to A— "

"You're right," I interrupted her dangerously. "Let's not even mention it."

I turned away from her in frustration, trying to bite back my tongue, trying not to say anything else. Also, to hide my hurt. I didn't want to hear that Emily thought badly of me, that Emily judged my life.

"If you were just going to leave, why did you even come here?" I heard her ask quietly, but with a hint of pain in her voice.

I sighed deeply, pressing my fingers into my temples, closing my eyes, still turned away from her. I wished everything would just go away. Just stop. But it didn't. I could hear her, feel her silently waiting for my response.

I tried to think of the answer. Why did I come here? I knew, even way back then after her dad's funeral, what a mistake I'd made at the bar. What a terrible thing I'd allowed to happen. But I still came the second she called, still allowed the story to unfold exactly like I thought it would. In heartbreak.

I opened my eyes, and my eyes fell on an object I hadn't noticed before. Her book shelf on the wall. Sitting on the second to highest shelf, was a small, yellow dome with a beautiful brown, mahogany base. She still had it?

I reached forward, picking up the snow globe I'd given to Emily so long ago. I turned to look at her, and she saw what I was holding, her eyes looking wounded. I wondered if she could still hear my voice, like I could, when she looked at it.

" _You're the only that that really understands me, Em. The only one I can be completely honest with."_

It was still true. I decided to answer her question.

"I care about you," I answered softly. "I had to see you again."

She just looked back at me, confused, not understanding.

"We grew apart after your freshmen year of college," I said, palming the snow globe in my hand, feeling the cold texture of the glass. "We stopped talking as much. You developed… this life outside of me. Outside of Rosewood. I started to think you hated me just because I reminded you of it."

I couldn't believe I was saying all of this out loud, especially to Emily. It felt like it was rushing out of me like blood from a severed artery.

"I thought that I was losing you."

At this, Emily turned away, staring into the corner of the kitchen.

"And I was, wasn't I?" I said to her back. "To California. To Paige. And then you show up, six months ago, and finally…maybe…" but I wasn't sure if I could finish, wasn't sure where my words were leading.

Emily turned sideways, needing to watch me out of the corner of her eye.

"Only to leave again," I said, feeling my voice break. "And stop talking to me."

I replaced the snow globe back on the shelf.

"You said you didn't want to talk about it," she said, anguished, fully turning to me now, making a movement as if she wanted to come over to me by the door.

"Because you wanted to have this talk?" I said, watching her clench her jaw.

"It doesn't need to be like this," she begged.

"But it is, isn't it? Like I said, I'm not coming here, and you're not coming there. So, there's nowhere to go," I stated with finality.

"We can go back," she said, slightly hysterically. "To the way things were."

"We can't go back," I said, shaking my head.

"But—"

"I can't go back," I clarified brusquely.

And everything suddenly felt done. Conclusive. Over. My heart, my chest, something felt like it split inside of me, and I turned back towards the door, blinking back wet tears.

"Alison—" I heard her taking steps toward me, but I spun around, putting an arm out.

"Don't touch me," I said, through hot tears, my voice sounding warped. She looked startled, frozen in place.

"Look, you don't need me, Emily," I said, using her full name, wiping at my face, trying to get control of myself. "You don't need this. You have plenty going on. I'm sorry—"

"Alison—" she pleaded again, taking another step forward.

"You were right, I shouldn't have come," I muttered, avoiding her. I turned sharply, opened the door, and left.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Hello after a long hiatus! So, if you don't know the deal or don't remember following this fic, it used to have twelve chapters. The story moved into season 7 of PLL and was loosely following the plot. BUT I HATED IT. So, I ended up deleting four of the chapters. Instead, I'm going to keep this story going from right where we left off and not do a time jump. There will only be a few more chapters, probably two; this one and the next. I just wanted to finish this for you all who seem so devastated about Chapter 8 ending the way it did. You may want to reread Chapter 8, too, I made some significant dialogue edits starting from when Paige arrives.

* * *

 **Emily.**

I stood there, feeling stunned. Confused. Thrown.

The door slammed, making me jump. Like someone had flung a bucket of cold water on me, waking me up, making me realize what had just happened with Alison.

The first thing I felt was anger, maybe even hatred. I hated Ali, hated her as much as I'd hated her back in high school, when I was convinced she was manipulating me again, that everything had been an act. I thought, she's done this to me _again_. _Again and again and again_. Why did she always leave me? Why did I ever give her another chance? Why did I ever kiss her back? Why did I think this would be any different than before?

But then I heard her words, her voice floating, pained, back into my mind. She'd said she cared about me. She'd wanted to see me again, that's why she came here. She'd thought she was losing me. She couldn't go back.

I suddenly burst forward, throwing my shoulder hard against the door, lurching through it. I had to stop her from leaving, even if she tried to stiff arm me, even if she tried to run.

"Ali!" I shouted down the hallway, not seeing her. She'd just left, though, she couldn't have gotten far.

"Ali!" I yelled again as I ran to the stairwell, no shoes on. I went down the first flight, my bare feet slapping against the concrete.

I craned my head, staring over the edge, still not seeing her. She wasn't on the street below, she wasn't at the corner. I continued down the stairs, out onto the pavement below. I desperately rounded the building, to look down the other street. But there was nothing. No one. Emptiness.

She'd disappeared. But how? And why did she just leave me?

 _No,_ I thought. She could _not_ just disappear into the nether. She wasn't a fucking magician.

I whipped out my phone to call her, to text her, eyes still frantically searching for her form, her long golden hair. The rings were endless. Voicemail.

I tried again. Still rings, still voicemail.

I stared at my phone in disbelief, feeling tortured, helpless, frustrated. I started to type her a series of texts as I walked back towards the front of the building.

 **Emily to Alison:** Please come back  
 **Emily to Alison:** I want to talk to you  
 **Emily to Alison:** Don't leave

I sent them, and then quickly read them again. They looked so desperate, _I_ looked so desperate. Like I was begging.

I pushed my hands into my hair, tears in my eyes. Why did I say those mean things to her? Why couldn't I have just lied about Paige? Why did this hurt so much? I realized this didn't feel the same as before. It felt worse. Like I had really _lost_ something.

That was when I heard a trunk shut. I turned, startled, even a little excited. Hopeful for a painful split second that it was Ali. But it wasn't Ali, it was Paige, watching me, her palm flat on the trunk of her car, her face stony. She must've been in her car when I'd looked before, maybe that's why I hadn't seen her. She only looked at me, guarded and angry.

Like Ali, our conversation had taken a turn for the worse, too. She'd told me I needed to wake up, or maybe it was grow up, and come back to her. She'd asked why I couldn't see that we were meant to be together. Over the last six months, she'd said she was sorry for the way she acted when my dad died. I'd said I was, too, but I wasn't really sure if I was. I just wanted to make her feel better. We'd been talking, she'd come to visit last month. We'd kissed again, even hooked up. But it just wasn't the same. Or I wasn't the same.

"You don't have any shoes on," she pointed out, leaning against the car, as I looked at her blankly, clutching my phone.

"Oh," I said, trying to compose myself, trying to hide my distress about Alison.

"I take it Ali left?" she said, her expression growing a touch harder.

I didn't answer, looking down at my phone. No response, an empty screen.

"I can't say I'm surprised," she finished.

I knew it was true, that it wasn't surprising that Ali had ditched me. I'd thought those exact words mere moments ago when Ali and I had begun fighting. But for some reason, hearing Paige say it, I didn't like it.

"You know, she's not the same as she was in high school," I said back defensively.

"Really?" she said hawkishly. "You're defending her?"

"Of course," I replied, my tone wary. "She was—is one of my best friends."

"Did you share a bed while she was 'visiting'?" she asked, emphasizing the last word with incredulity.

"No, Paige," I said more sternly, somehow finding it much easier to lie to her than to lie to Alison. "There's nothing going on. You know, there's never anything going on with her."

We stared at each other in a strange sort of Mexican standoff, Paige silently challenging me to own up to the truth for _once_. But I didn't.

As the silence wore on, I wondered if that made me a bad person: the fact that I could lie to my ex-girlfriend, who I'd been with off and on for years, but I couldn't lie to a girl who had never officially claimed our relationship. I had never lied to Alison, whereas I had always lied to Paige _about_ Alison. Paige and I… almost everything was open and honest, visible and on the table. But not Alison. She had been a closed subject, locked and squared away. Off limits. We'd gone rounds about Alison in the past, Paige never believed me, never trusted Ali and I's friendship was totally platonic. Even though she had no solid reason to think it wasn't. After all, I'd never told her about the night Ali and I shared when she came back. And I never would.

Maybe I wasn't a bad person, maybe I was just consistent.

Paige shook her head as I maintained my silence, a contemptuous half smile on her face as she stared up at the beautiful, clear blue sky for a moment.

"You know," she said, rounding to the driver's side door, a look of angry defeat on her face. It reminded me of when I would beat her at swimming in high school. "I wish I was the one you ran after when I stormed off after a fight."

And, with that, she got into her car. My mouth hung open, trying to prove her wrong, trying to lie, but no words came out. But she didn't wait for my response, she slammed her door, started the engine and drove off.

I turned away from the sight of it, feeling dejected and stupid again. I checked my phone, but there was still no reply. It occurred to me that she wasn't going to answer. That she might never talk to me again. But that was unacceptable to me, not even an option.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, centering myself. I needed to find Alison. I _knew_ I could find her. Where would she go? What would she do?

* * *

 **Alison.**

I saw my missed calls from Emily. She'd texted me. But I didn't answer. She'd come rushing out of the apartment a few moments after I'd left. I heard her call my name down the hallway, down the stairs, out into the street. But I'd expected it, I'd hidden on the floor above, in a doorway. I'd gone upstairs instead of down. I could still remember how to hide. Even after years. Was it something you could ever forget?

When the coast was clear, I called for a cab and went to the airport to book a quick flight home. But of course, because my life could never be easy, there were weather delays and cancellations. I drummed my fingers angrily on the counter, struggling desperately to control my temper, as the ticketing agent told me there was nothing she could do. I even lied, telling her I was part of a wedding, that I had to get to Rosewood tonight. Anything to get out of this fucking city. But the woman still couldn't help me. Her 'hands were tied.' I huffed, throwing an angry glare at the ceiling. She offered me a flight first thing the next morning, she even recommended a hotel around the corner from the airport. I sighed, resigned, and booked my ticket with a tight-lipped smile.

Even though I was beyond pissed, I took her hotel recommendation. Mainly because I was too exhausted to figure anything else out. In my room, I pulled back the curtain and looked out over LA, at least what I could see through the smog. The view wasn't like Santa Monica. Everything seemed old, from the 70's, dirty, and hazy. The hotel was nice, nich-ish at least. My room had floor to ceiling windows, but I couldn't see the ocean. But maybe I didn't want to see it again. It would remind me of her.

I let the curtain fall closed again, and I sat on the edge of my bed uncomfortably. I wondered what had happened when I left. Did Paige come back? Had Emily called her, looking for comfort? Emily had always left me for her. What would stop her again?

Fucking Paige. Paige Fucking McCullers.

I tortured myself. I thought about Paige staying there, the sheets still warm from my departure. I thought of Emily hugging her, relieved to see her. I thought about them kissing.

I pressed my hand hard over my eyes, trying to make myself stop. But I could only think that Paige had always been there for Emily when I wasn't. She had always given Emily everything that I couldn't. She was loyal and honest and loving. There were times I thought I was lifetimes away from who I'd been, miles away from the girl who had bullied her, written her a fake love letter and blackmailed her. But there were other times, like now, where I hated Paige again. It felt all consuming, like a fire that destroyed whole forests, whole cities. I remember once having the arrogance to tell Paige that I owned her. But she owned Emily now. Which meant, that in reality, she owned me. She'd won again.

And why? Because I was a coward?

I made a grumbling noise, glancing at my phone. Emily hadn't called or texted in a while. Did she give up? Should I answer her? Was it cold that I didn't?

The more I thought about it, the more I hated to admit that she might've been right. I was running away. What I'd felt there in her bed, the whole weekend, when she'd been in Rosewood, I wanted it. I wanted her. Too much. It frightened me. It made me hate myself. Paige "Pigskin" McCullers had somehow been braver than me, opened herself up, loved all of Emily and let Emily love all of her. How could I do that? What if she rejected me? What if it ended?

I put my phone down with certainty. She _would_ reject me. She had before. While I might've known what I wanted, I had no idea what she wanted. And she definitely didn't want me.

No one did, not really at least. I knew I was beautiful, seductive, a trophy men wanted to place on their mantle. But I was also the kind of person that hid from someone desperately calling their name. The kind of person that ran away for two years while everyone that loved them suffered. A liar. A manipulator. I acted like I was ready, then I wasn't. I kissed her, then said we shouldn't talk about it. I had only ever hurt her. People like that, like me, they didn't deserve love. Certainly not from someone like Emily. Not now, not ever.

I picked up the hotel phone. I dialed room service, I told them to bring me literally any bottle of wine. I could only hope that, somehow, alcohol would make this all go away until the morning.

When I hung up the phone, I thought, next week this would all just be a memory. Another thing that had happened that I'd try hard to forget.

Then I cried. Hard. Ugly cried in that stupid hotel room. The type of cry that haunts you later, leaves your body sore, sick. I wasn't sure if what I was feeling was heartbreak… because I'd never felt anything like it. Emily and I hadn't even been a thing necessarily. We never had been. But we always had been, too. And, whatever it was, it was over. I'd ruined it.

I peeled my clothes off, so I wouldn't smell like her, so maybe I'd stop crying. Then, I got into the shower for a long, long time.

* * *

 **Emily.**

I stood there awkwardly at the door. I thought about what a pain in the ass this whole ordeal had been. I briefly thought, what if this isn't her room? What if I was wrong? Then I thought, _fuck it._

I knocked on the door, not loud, but not quietly. I knocked with authority.

After a few moments, I hear soft footfalls, the door swing open. Her normally beautiful blonde curls were wet, sitting on her shoulders. Her face was in shadow, turned away.

"You can put it over there," she said, holding out a five dollar bill.

But when I didn't move to take it, she looked up, and she saw my face. Her eyes widened, she took in a deep breath. She looked like she was seeing a ghost. Or someone she absolutely never thought she'd see again. And maybe that had been her plan. But that wasn't my plan for her.

"How did you—" she stuttered, shocked. "How did you find me?"

I wanted to say that I would always find her, that I have always found her. Even all those years ago when she was missing, it was me that hacked the email account. It was me that met up with her in secret. It was me that never stopped believing that she was still alive. I can't explain it, but we have a connection, something that gives me a sixth sense for what Ali might do, where she might go. I suppose it's a product of thinking about her, dreaming about her, longing for her so obsessively for so long. Even when I think I've forgotten about her, I haven't. She's always with me.

I looked at her face. Despite the obvious surprise there, her eyes were red, her skin was puffy. I thought I might find her perfectly composed, laughing about what she'd put me through this time, but she didn't look like that at all. She looked as devastated as I felt.

I didn't answer her question. Instead, I pushed open the door with my hand, invading her personal space. I slid my fingers against her cheek, to the back of her neck, where I pulled her forward. I worked my lips over hers aggressively, forcing her to take a step back, the door slamming closed behind me.

As I kissed her, I could tell she was still shocked, slightly rigid beneath me, her hands clutching at my elbows. But I was honestly surprised, too. I thought I would start yelling at her again, demand to continue our conversation from earlier. But when I saw her, looking raw and vulnerable and small, I only wanted to do this. I wanted to kiss her until she forgot we'd ever had a fight at all. I wanted her to forget about everything.

As I pushed her further into the room, still kissing her heatedly, I appreciated the soft texture of the bath robe she wore as I groped her ass. She made a noise, and her lips finally responded to mine, fully engaged, firm and sensual. I felt her tongue graze my lips, my teeth.

I thought about everything she'd said about us. I remembered suddenly how she called me a mess. I moved her roughly to the side, against a low sitting dresser, her back and legs making hard enough contact that it rocked. I grope blindly behind her, slide everything off of it in one sweeping motion. I lifted her onto the top, so I was between her legs, her thighs situated fast around my waist. She pressed her palms flat against the wood, stabilizing herself.

I pulled back for a moment, my hands clutching her waist tightly as I stared into her bitingly blue eyes. She's still leaned back, her hands still on the table top. She wore a strangely vulnerable expression that seemed to say 'what now?' but I could only hear her taunting me from earlier, her voice sharp.

" _I know you're failing your classes. And, Jesus Christ, Emily, you're a bartender?"_

I kissed her again, hard. I pulled, ripped at her bathrobe, opening her like an overeager child with a Christmas present. I had something to prove. I intensely kneaded the inside of her thighs as we kissed, Ali moaning into my mouth. It was satisfying to know she wanted this, even though she said she didn't. Then again, maybe I'm confused, and that's not what she'd said at all.

Either way, she held onto me like a lifeline. She didn't disconnect our mouths once but pressed closer into me, moving her hands into my hair. I pushed the bathrobe fully off, over her shoulders, letting it fall into a heap on dresser top, so that she was fully naked and laid bare.

I broke away, looking down at the smooth expanse of her slightly defined stomach to her delicate collar bone to her cleft chin. She looked so hot. She watched me, breathing hard, her chest rising and falling.

I wrapped my arm tightly around her waist pulling her close again. I trailed my finger down her stomach, moving my body against hers, pressing her back hard against… it wasn't a wall, it was a mirror. I made eye contact somewhat awkwardly with my reflection before I repositioned my hand at her sex, sliding, plunging into Ali. She moaned, loud and long, pulling my hair. My breath fogged the mirror in front of me. I could see Ali's back, long and slender leaving marks as her hips moved back and forth against it.

I wasn't gentle, but I wasn't being too rough as I nibbled her neck slightly, thrust her ass forward into my hand. She drew my face back to her mouth, biting my lip, my tongue. I curled my fingers, and she groaned, louder than before, breaking our kiss, throwing her head back. I quickened my pace, taking a moment to savor the fact that Alison is tight around my fingers, outside of herself with pleasure.

I snaked my other hand up from her ass to her back as I licked her ear, dipping my tongue inside it.

"Oh, fuck," she breathed out in a whine.

There's a knock at the door. I halted my movements, looking at the door confused.

"Who is that—" I asked breathlessly, but I didn't finish as Ali grabbed my chin, turning my face back to hers, pressing her forehead against mine.

"Don't fucking stop," she warned, her eyes threatening, her pupils big and black.

I felt like I had no choice but to listen to her, so I continued, reentering her, causing her to bite her lip, whimpering. I used my thumb to rub hard circles on her clit, and she made a grunting, growl of a sound, her eyes fluttering closed. Her lips were swollen and her cheeks were pink. I didn't see any trace of the girl who answered the door, and I felt relieved.

There's another knock, but this time I didn't stop.

"Room service," a voice said insistently.

"Leave it—leave at the door," Ali called out in broken words. I could tell she was close, her fingernails were biting into my shoulders.

I leaned in, twisting my tongue into her mouth, roughly massaging hers. Her mouth only lolled open, uncoordinated and uncaring. I left it, kissing the rest of her skin, leaving marks in a trail down her body, from her neck, to her chest, and to her breast… all as the dresser banged loudly against the wall.

"Em," she cried out, and I could feel her whole body tensing, beginning to spasm.

"I'm right here," I said back as she came.

 **I hope you all enjoyed this one, rare moment where Emily dominates Ali. Because Alison DiLaurentis is a top.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Hi everyone – thank you for all the reviews and kind words! So... this will not be the last chapter. There will be one more!

Big shout out to gbrenes on Tumblr and Twitter for helping me come up with this chapter! I was super torn on what to do, and she was a massive help!

* * *

 **Alison.**

Emily is on the bed, laying on her stomach, her back to me as I return from the restroom. It's still a little crazy to me that she's here. Even more so that she's still naked and kicking her feet languidly, crossed at the ankle, the backs of her thighs like a territory I eagerly wish to chart. Every peak, every valley. The dip in her back reminds me of a canyon, like a compass pointing due north. It's a map I would memorize but never share with others. Hers is a wilderness I would only want to be known to me.

I linger a moment by the dresser, thinking on that, as she picks at a cheese plate that had come with the wine. I decide I want to touch that dip and move closer, tracing my fingertip across it, causing Emily turn to look at me, the hint of a smile at the corner of her lips.

"Do you want some?" she asks, touching the bottle with a lazy fingertip.

I nod, and she reaches for two glasses. I'm still not able to stop myself from raking over her backside with my eyes, so I don't try. Her smile turns to a smirk as she rolls back to me, holding my wine glass, biting her lip.

I take the glass, swirling the liquid, watching the red stain the inside of the rim. I do this even though I've never really understood why people do it. Something about 'tannins?' I shrug and take a sip, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. I'm back in my bathrobe, though it makes me blush a little to think about it. It's no longer just an ordinary, white bathrobe. It's a reminder, a memory. I want to pack it in my bag, take it home to Rosewood.

"So," she says slowly, pulling me from my thoughts, leaning her cheek into her palm to look at me.

"So," I say back, staring down into those brown eyes.

I don't say anything else because I'm not entirely sure _what_ to say, what is left to be said. Emily and I have never been particularly great at sharing our feelings. In fact, I've never really liked sharing at all, the act of 'talking' itself. I used it as a vehicle for my lies, like a Trojan horse waiting to sabotage all of my relationships. It's what my parents taught me. I feel like that's what everyone is doing when they open their mouths. There's always an agenda.

But Emily is different, I think, as I look into her eyes. She doesn't try to force me to talk. She just touches my hand, and I actually believe that, believe that she likes being with me.

She quirks her eyebrow slightly, and I realize she does actually want me to say something now, though. I look down and away, sifting through my memory to find the last thread of conversation I can think of. One that doesn't involve me telling her 'don't stop.'

"You didn't answer me," I start timidly, trying to repress a blush. "How did you find me here?"

A flash of something crosses her face. Annoyance? Frustration? It's as if she'd forgotten about how she got here, about the events of the day, that we had lives that existed outside of the confines of this room. And then she remembers.

"I went straight to the airport," she starts, looking into her wine, as if it might tell her the future, how to fix all this. "I talked to a lady about getting a flight to Philadelphia, and she asked me if I had a bachelorette in Rosewood, too."

She looks back up at me judgmentally, and I roll my eyes.

"Was that the best lie you had?" she teased, taking a sip.

"I was exhausted," I reply, feeling harassed. But I don't bite back. Emily is literally the _only_ person I let make fun of me.

"You used to be a better liar, Ali," she says, mocking me again.

"Please," I say in protest, slapping her arm with the back of my hand. She only giggles, and that giggle is exactly why I let her say whatever she wants. It's cute, I know she's never really trying to be mean.

"So, I said I was, in fact, going to that same bachelorette," she continues, her lashes looking black and long. "And she told me which hotel she sent you to."

"Seems like a breach of my privacy," I counter playfully, drinking my wine again.

"I know," Emily admitted shyly. "I felt a little creepy coming here. Especially when I had to try to figure out your room number."

I feign intrigue, though I'm actually more focused on pressing a hand through her hair, back down behind her ear. She gives me a curious look, pausing her story, so I relent and show her what I'm really thinking. I push her shoulder, so she moves onto her back, and place both our glasses on the bedside table. Then, I climb onto her, straddling her legs, running my hand from her stomach to her chest.

"How'd you find that?" I ask with a rasp, a slight hold of my breath. I lean down, dipping my tongue out to trail along the column of her neck.

"Mmmm," she said, her hands finding the grooves of my hips. I run my tongue up to her ear.

"Well?" I cue again, enjoying that I've sufficiently distracted her.

"I flashed a cleaning lady," she murmurs against my skin.

This causes me to laugh, pulling back. "No, you didn't."

But Emily suddenly sits up, wrapping her arms around me, and flips our positions. I yelp, but it's too late to resist, all of our gravity against me. Now I'm the one on my back under her as she lays happily over me.

She plays with the lapel of my bath robe.

"Alison, I keep taking clothes off of you," she says reproachfully. "And you keep putting them back on."

"Not all of us are as confident walking around naked as you are," I comment, though my hands are currently appreciating this attribute of Emily's, kneading the firm muscles of her backside.

"Alison DiLaurentis?" she teases, leaning in to taste my lips for a delicious moment. "Not confident?"

I don't bother to think of a comeback, reaching my hand up to the back of her neck, bringing her back in for a deeper kiss. As I massage my tongue against hers, she falls comfortably between my legs, and I can feel a few of her fingers playing with my hair.

But she pulls back before I'm able to get carried away, a more serious expression on her face.

"She said you bought a flight in the morning," Emily tells me. "Are you really leaving?"

I know the answer, but I'm not quite sure how to convey it. So, I trail a finger across her collar bone, buying time.

"I have to go home, Emily," I try to say calmly, though there's a clear strain in my voice.

Emily merely stares down at me, looking conflicted, sad.

"Well," she says, grabbing my hand, kissing my knuckles. "What if you didn't?"

"I have to," I tell her again, closing my hand before opening it again and spreading my fingers out over her cheek.

"Let's pretend you didn't," she says quieter. "Let's plan our day tomorrow."

I look back at her, confused at first, until I realize Emily wants to play the game we used to play back in high school. We would plan where we would run away together, where we would stay, what we would do. We'd even go as far as looking up hotels, asking each other very seriously if the Le Royal Monceau in Paris was "in the budget."

I open my mouth to start us off, but I can't bring myself to play along quite yet. Something about the exercise seems a little soul crushing in this moment.

"Come on," she prompts when I don't immediately respond. "What do you want to do?"

I can't help but smile, looking down, finding a freckle on her shoulder.

"I want to go to Malibu," I admit shyly. "I want to see your school."

"So, we'll drive up the PCH," she says easily, her eyes glittering. "You'll love it. The sun is always out, shining off the water. It'll be warm, a little windy."

"Sounds perfect," I reply, thinking I can actually see the sunsets in my mind. The reds and pinks and oranges. "Then what?"

"When we're done with that, we'll just keep going North," Emily says, looking thoughtful.

"The windows down," I suggest.

"Wind in our hair," Emily says ruffling my hair. She's also quoting me from high school, when we'd talked about Paris once. It's cute that she remembers.

"We'll drive until we get to the Golden Gate Bridge. We could go to the Fisherman's Wharf," I say, my own voice sounding higher, faster. Maybe this is something we _could_ actually do. Maybe I shouldn't be so cynical.

"I'd buy you one of those giant balls of cotton candy," Emily continues, reaching for one of my hands that's still kneading the muscles of her back. She takes it, entwining our fingers. "We'd hold hands walking down the pier."

"Is there a Ferris wheel there?" I ask, since I've never actually been to San Francisco, only seen pictures. I wonder if it's like the Santa Monica Pier I could see in the distance.

"No, but I'm sure we could find one," Emily says hopefully. "Sit at the top and look out over the city."

"Is that all we'd do?" I ask saucily, Emily's puffy lips having caught my attention.

"No," she says, leaning in to kiss the corner of my mouth, lingering close. "I'd pretend you had something on your face, and then I'd kiss you."

She does it now, as if we are there. It makes me laugh.

"Or I'd make up a constellation name," she says, pretending to look up at imaginary stars on the ceiling. "Pointing it out to you while we sat at the top. I'd sound really smart."

This makes me laugh harder.

"I'd know you were lying, but I'd let you think I believed it anyway."

"Oh, shut up, you're impressed," Emily says, looking back down at me, pinning me to the bed in a playful wrestle. I struggle back but giggling and without much conviction.

"You'd look up and talk about how no one has ever told you about the stars before," which is true, they haven't, "and when you looked back down, I'd be looking at you," she hums to me, nuzzling her nose with mine.

"All close," she continues. And I can't stop looking at her mouth, her fluttering eyelids. "And, then, you'd have to kiss me."

Emily closes the gap between us because she's absolutely right, I have to kiss her right now. Our lips, teeth, tongue, slide against one another, a dance I feel like I could do forever.

"Then what?" I ask in a whisper, pulling back, not wanting our story to be over.

Emily thinks hard. "Neither of us go back, we don't go anywhere," Emily says. "We're just together forever."

"We live in a van," I add.

"A van?!" Emily cries out in disbelief. "Are we homeless?"

"No—no," I stutter to correct. "One of those metal ones, I can't think of the name."

"An Airstream?" Emily offers, still laughing at me.

"Yes!" I answer, relieved. "And then we go across the country. I want to see Yosemite, that's near here right?"

"You want to wake up to bears trying to eat our food?"

"I do," I admit.

"Ali, you are not the camping type," Emily says definitively.

"In this world, maybe I am!" I say, pinching her cheek. "We can even drive all the way back to Rosewood, visit all the major parks and cities along the way."

"Ugh, Rosewood," Emily says, rolling off of me, as if I've spoiled our fake life, our fun game, by bringing reality back into the mix.

I follow her, pushing my arm across her stomach. She looks back at me, tracing a finger down my jaw.

"You don't ever miss it?" I ask. I almost want to add, 'you don't ever miss me?' Because Rosewood is, after all, where I live. If she hates the city, does she hate me by association?

"I don't know, I guess," she grumbles reluctantly. "I don't really miss Rosewood itself or even Pennsylvania, really. But I do miss… friends, sometimes. Family."

She looks at me uncertainly. I wonder if she sees me as either.

"I'd love to have a family again," she adds more wistfully.

"I've felt like that." And I have. I _really_ have.

"But someone called me a mess recently," she shifts gear suddenly, looking at me teasingly, albeit a little angry. "And I don't think I'm ready."

It makes me roll my eyes, but playfully. I did say that, after all. And, again, it's hard to actually stay mad at Emily Fields.

"You're only 20, Em," I try to defend myself. "Mess or not, It's a little early to be thinking of kids, anyway."

But Emily looks sad at this, and my smile falters a little.

"I just wonder, like, after college…what's the new goal? What's the point?" she asks, not necessarily to me or to anyone, but to herself.

I consider her question, anyway, it's not like the same thing hasn't occurred to me. I do often wonder when I'm supposed to meet this alleged person that makes me feel whole, that gives my life meaning. A person I'll want to have kids with. I do wonder what the point of all of our suffering was supposed to be.

"Well, you could help other people until you were ready?" I suggest, trying to keep the tone light.

"Like how?" she asks skeptically, avoiding my attempt. It makes me smile ruefully.

"I don't know, you could harvest your eggs, give them to charity."

"Ali, I am so broke," she grumbles. "I don't even think I can afford to give my own eggs to charity."

I laugh again. "Then donate them, I think they'd give you a lot of money."

"Sell my eggs?" she intones back at me. "That's a thing?"

"I've heard about it," I answer, thinking of the flyers I'd seen around the Hollis campus. "It's not like they just go anywhere. They go to families who can't get pregnant."

Emily makes a less skeptical and condemning face at that last part, but I only shrug. I wasn't being totally serious, it was just something I'd seen.

"Well, what do you want to do for the next few hours? Of course, until we leave for our trip tomorrow?" she asks with somewhat of a sad smile.

"Exactly what we're doing," I smile at her, reaching over her chest for my glass of wine. "It's perfect."

* * *

 **Emily.**

I'm not sure when we go to bed. We drink our bottle of wine, continue to laugh about silly things, watch terrible movies and TV shows. Alison has always been the type to switch between several channels at once, as if she's afraid of missing out on something bigger or better. I've been watching her do this since middle school. It's as if she always has this hope that what she's looking for is just around the corner, never right in front of her.

That's a bit how I feel when I wake up. When she's gone. Like she's moved on to something bigger. Better.

When I feel for the sheets on her side, they're still warm. I wonder how long it's been since she left. I lean forward and smell her pillow. I bring it close to me, hugging it. After a few moments, I twist backwards, reaching for my phone, checking the time.

5:45 AM.

I sit there in the dark, not moving. I'm feeling crushed, like I want to cry. But shouldn't I have expected this? I guess, in a way, I didn't. I guess I'm a little surprised she didn't wake me up when she left. Surprised like when someone slaps you. Or when you think they're going to slap you, but then they don't. I wonder if she took extra care to make no sound, if she stood above me while I slept, debating on whether or not to wake me up.

But like always, she didn't say goodbye. She's just gone. And, like always, I want to find her. Because I didn't go to sleep thinking it was the last time I'd see her. I went to sleep with daydreams and thoughts of sunsets and beaches and wilderness. I went to sleep feeling with every part of me that Alison and I could change our fate, get out of our rut, once and for all. I want to wake up with her again and again, every day, without any worry that she won't be there in the morning.

Should I fly back?

I think about dropping out of Pepperdine for good. What if I moved back to Rosewood? What if I stayed with my mom? I could really be with Ali then. I could show her the stars I know nothing about, I could buy her cotton candy. And she would look at me in that same way, her blue eyes bright, all of her attention on me. Thinking about that look, that look I just saw hours ago, it makes me feel warm, like being in front of a fire in December.

She had to feel the same way. I can't help but believe it.

But, despite that, I don't move. I just lie there. Feeling the opposite of what I'd felt with Ali earlier. I feel detached, cold, and alone. It feels wrong, like a lie. I feel like what we had last night was real. Ali kissing me, touching me, and dreaming with me, that was what was real. Not this. Not lying in the dark, sunless morning. Not being here, abandoned in Alison's bed.

I feel like she's broken up with me. Again. Again and again and again.

I sigh, not really wanting to do this with myself. Wanting to be outside of my own mind for once. I lay there, trying to pretend to be one of those spiritual priests that claim to feel nothing. One of those monks that only prays and carries pails of water every day.

Maybe I haven't really lost everything, I think, lying there pretending to be a numb void. Maybe there was nothing really there to lose. I've already ruined things with Paige. I know I'm still fucked up about losing my dad. Ali was right. Ali actually has her shit together, and I don't have anything. What if she left me again? What if the distance had nothing to do with our problems? What if it was never supposed to happen?

If I went back to Rosewood, I'd have to live with my mother. And, I love her, but she's still so sad about my dad. She also thinks I'm doing great at school. She thinks I have all A's. I don't know how I would lie my way out of that. And, then, there's Alison's life. There's Charlotte.

I don't want anything to do with _her_.

Maybe this just is 'what it is.' Just sex. Or confused friendship. A short affair. Nothing meant to last. I say this to myself, and I almost believe it. Almost until something catches my eye. Something white and folded on the nightstand.

I reach for it, knowing what it is, scared to open it. But I do anyway.

I can see Alison's loopy writing, a font I know as well as my own. In high school, she'd write me letters, pages and pages long, I can't even remember what about. But I kept all of them. I'd look at that girlish script before I went to sleep at night. I'd hope that somewhere, locked within those letters, I'd be able to decipher what I really meant to her.

The contents of this note wouldn't be any different. I feel that same hope.

I take a breadth and read. But it's simple, direct and to the point. It was very 'Alison.'

 **"Against all the discouragement that could be** _ **, love."**_

But it didn't say love, it was a drawn heart. A perfectly drawn heart.

I close it, turning over in bed, reaching for her pillow. I breathe in the scent of Alison's hair, and I wish… I don't know what I wish for. I wish that she's right. I wish that we'll see each other again, and, for once, it _will_ last. I hope Pip gets Estella in the end.


	11. Interlude

**A/N:** Hi everyone! Thank you again for all of the reviews, I'm really glad you've enjoyed this story. However, I'm going to be putting College Break on an indefinite hiatus because I honestly don't know what to do with the plot. I know I said there'd be one more chapter, but I honestly don't like what I had in mind for it, so I'd rather put it on pause until I want to come back to it. I'm sorry! But it's been a fun ride. I'm working on a new story, Captive. It's totally different than this one and Duplicity, but if you're looking for something wild and crazy, definitely check it out!

Also, I'd already written this 5x05 flashback scene below, so I figured I'd go ahead and post it for you all, since I'm not sure where to work it in now. Thanks for sticking with me on this story!

* * *

 **Flashback.**

 **Emily.**

 _We were both in bed, she'd asked me to stay over. Having her so near, but far, was excruciating. I repeatedly thought of the space between us in the bed. How many inches apart were we? How many centimeters? Millimeters? What slight movement would it take to touch her, to kiss her?_

 _But I couldn't bring myself to bridge the gap. It seemed so vast yet so small. I didn't know what it would mean, what it would change. So, I was stuck. Wide awake but paralyzed. I'd spent so many years wishing that she was alive, that she'd be back, but now that I finally had her… I had no idea what to do. Especially with what she'd said._

 _Those kisses weren't just for practice._

 _Earlier, I'd tried to ignore it. I'd tried to tell myself it didn't change anything. But now in the confines of the darkness, a different narrative played out. I allowed myself to admit how badly I'd wanted to hear her say that. I'd wished for it, dreamed for it. After Maya, Paige, I'd thought I was over it. Over her. But I couldn't deny it. That determined, undying hope, the one I'd watered and nourished, eager for it to blossom into the words she spoke, that Ali loved me in the way that I loved her, it still persisted. It was like a pilot light that had stayed burning deep within me, waiting for ignition, waiting for those words._

" _Ali, are you awake?" I finally said, unable to stop myself, fearing if I did nothing I might explode._

 _She didn't move as I stole a glance at her back. And, as the silence stretched on, I thought, even if she wasn't awake, I could turn, I could move my arms around her waist, pull her close. I could burrow my face into her neck, drown in that sweet scent. I could wake her with a kiss, my lips pressed against her ear._

 _But she was awake, taking in a breath, shifting onto her side under the sheets to face me. She leveled me with those brilliant, bright blue eyes, her head moving slightly across the boundary between us, onto my pillow. She pulled it back again, a late correction, but I noticed it. I noticed it because a strand of her hair had almost brushed my face as she'd moved, and I could smell her suddenly, strongly, intoxicatingly. I fluttered my eyes closed, momentarily overwhelmed, before opening them again. In response, a smile played almost invisibly at the corner of her mouth. It might've been invisible to someone who had not studied her, committed every detail about her to memory like I had. But I saw it. I also saw her glance down at my lips before flickering back to my eyes._

 _If I knew anything about Ali, it was that that look was not accidental. It was an invitation. It was like she was waiting, like she could read my mind, like she knew exactly what I was really asking._

 _I was so nervous, my fingers tingled in a painful way, the way they would before I'd start a swim competition._ How could I do this? _I thought, and then,_ how could I not?

 _In a surge of courage, like jumping off of a cliff or out of an airplane, I leaned forward to kiss her. I was surprised when she met me half way, as if she'd just decided to kiss me herself. Our lips pressed together for a heady few seconds, gently but firmly. I pulled back for a moment to look at her, her eyes drifting open to look back at me. There was no shame, no embarrassment. This wasn't like before where she'd pretend she didn't feel the same. She was just right there, waiting for me._

 _And then, suddenly, it all felt real. It was actually happening. All of those imagined but inconceivable scenarios that had played through my mind hundreds of times were actually merging into reality._

 _I moved my hands back to her face, bringing her in again. With each kiss, I could feel something building, like a hunger, a years long culmination coming to critical mass. And, surprisingly, I was getting the same sense back from Alison. Her mouth moved more urgently over mine, her teeth closing around my bottom lip._

 _She tore away, yanking the sheets back, her arm hooking under my shoulder. She pulled me close in a way that I had never been to her. Never once in all that practice, all those kisses, had we been on a bed, Ali pressed hard against me. I reveled in the taste of her, her warmth, her softness. She rolled on top of me, her hand skirting under my pajama top. As she kissed and kissed me, she lightly traced her nails over my stomach. Her knees were on either side of my hips, I could feel, but it was hard for me to really notice anything other than what was happening with our lips, with her fingers._

 _I laced my hands into her blonde locks, partially to block it from falling into our faces, partially because I'd always wanted to know what it felt like, to hold her like this, her body weight white hot against mine. I felt her scalp just beneath her hair, shifting under my fingers. She made a noise into my mouth as I raked my nails through the strands._

 _She sat up slightly, forcing me follow her mouth on my elbows. We stayed connected, her fingers moving under my shirt, from my stomach to my rib cage. She pushed both palms flat up against me. They stopped as she brushed the bottom of my breasts, causing me to inhale sharply into her mouth. She pulled away, looking somehow nervous and sexy at the same time, her mouth parted as she looked down._

 _As she kept her eyes locked with mine, I felt both of her thumbs shift slightly higher, brushing just below and then across my nipples. I bit my lip, hard, only partially able to quell a moan, feeling it resonate in the back of my throat, as I unconsciously moved my hips upwards, our centers making brief contact._

 _"Fuck Emily," she whispered, throwing her head back for a moment, massaging both breasts now more roughly, grinding down onto me. If there was a moment where we could turn back, it was gone now._

 _I lifted fully from my elbows, pushing Ali into a straddling position over my lap. I moved my hands to the hem of her tank, pulling it over her head, only breaking our kiss as it passed by our faces. She grabbed roughly at mine and it was quickly discarded as well. I dragged my nails across her back in long sweeping motions as I kissed her neck. I could almost hear her make another sound in her throat, and I wanted to hear it louder._

 _It an attempt to produce it, I slid my hands into the back of her pajama shorts, gripping her ass tightly. As I kneaded it, I pressed her towards me, making sure her open legs made contact with my stomach. This had the desired result as I heard her moan long and low, her breaths coming more shakily, filling my mouth with warmth._

 _Taking control, I flipped us over in the bed, keeping her legs still wrapped around my waist. As I rocked into her, our bare upper halves slid against each other. Ali continued to hum deliciously into my mouth. Feeling an insistent need for more, I shifted slightly for better friction and, as I did it, I could suddenly feel the heat and wetness coming from Ali through her shorts. I pulled away, shocked and somehow even more turned on than I had been._

 _I had done that. I had done that to her._

 _"What is it?" she whispered, but I just looked down at her, taking her in._

 _I wasn't sure if there were even words, all of the ones coming to mind seeming paltry and pitiful. She was just so god damn beautiful. Seeming again to know what I was thinking, she moved her hand to cup my cheek, her thumb brushing over my lips._

 _"Can I—Can I take these off?" I asked, moving my finger just under the waistband of her shorts._

 _It was strange, I stuttered the question not because I was nervous, but because I was excited. In my other encounters, nerves and anxiety had always been a huge issue. I'd thought so much about everything. I'd been painfully present. I'd always figured that's how it would be with Ali, too. That if anything had ever_ actually _happened with her, I'd be gridlocked with fear. I'd be frozen by the possibility of impending rejection, of doing the wrong thing._

 _But it wasn't like that at all. It was like swimming. I was just doing it. It was just happening._

 _After a moment, Ali simply nodded, biting her lip. Moving back from her, I pushed her legs together, pulling her remaining clothing free. As I turned back, finally able to enjoy her unbelievably naked form, she said, "Take yours off, too."_

 _Something in her tone gave me pause. It was demanding, a hint of the Ali I used to know, the one that always got what she wanted. It sent a seductive chill down my spine, reminding me again of what was finally happening, who I was finally with. The dominating Alison DiLaurentis._


End file.
